Rue the Day
by Falling's not the problem
Summary: It was a miracle Jamie survived the charge, let alone escaped the Germans. But that's because he, along with four younger English soldiers, had a saviour. A saviour with an accent. A saviour he's falling for. *Information and settings used from both the book and the movie. *T to be safe*
1. Escape

**Chapter 1-Esacpe**

The charge had gone to plan at first. The German soldiers had run in all directions, dropping everything, fleeing from the thought of dying in such a horrible, un-heroic way. It had been easy to eliminate them, only a few had been smart enough to draw guns. The charge seemed to be a success.

For a short while, at least.

What Jamie didn't know, what no-one knew, was that these German soldiers had machine guns. Lots of machine guns. The moment the German soldiers made it to the forest, made it to the weapons, Jamie's men started to drop like flies, some dying quickly and quietly while others had time to cry out in pain and anguish. He never felt as solely responsible for something as he did at that very moment. And, watching all those men die around him, deaths he knew he was responsible for, he never wanted to cry so much.

How he himself survived the guns was a miracle he didn't understand. But the problem was; now he was in the woods, surrounded by German soldiers.

At that point, he could not accept his mistake. It sounded arrogate and stupid, but it was not because he thought he should be constantly right. It was because many had died because of this mistake. So he ran, thinking maybe he could escape them. Pushing Topthorn into a gallop to escape the Germans that surround him. He ran out of the woods, but he was surrounded once again. He trotted in a circle to avoid being pulled off of his faithful horse's back.

A man came striding towards him. He was a German soldier, he could tell from the uniform. The man had authority, judging from the decorations on his jacket and his powerful stride. His hand was on the hilt of his sword, as though he prepared to draw it at any moment. His hair was hidden under a strange, pointed grey cap and his face wore a deep scowl.

"What?! You think a garrison on open ground would go undefended?!" he shouted shrilly in English with a thick German accent, obviously furious. "Look at yourself! Who do you think you are?!"

He looked out at the field he and countless others had charged over just moments before. The bodies of both men and horses alike where littered across the ground, pools of blood had gathered around them. And he felt cold. So very cold. And it was his fault. These men had charged into death under his orders. Yet he had survived. He threw his sword into the ground and he was about to dismount, when a movement across the meadow caught his attention.

The wall of long grass -which he and his troops had charged from just moments before- was disturbed, and a lone rider charged through. It wasn't one of his soldiers, for they weren't wearing a uniform. No. From what he could see (which, at this distance, was not a lot), the rider was wearing a white shirt with black trousers. There was a strange piece of black of fabric flying from the rider's hips as he lent over the horse's neck. The horse was small, smaller than any horse of any soldier under his command and white. Again, unlike any of his soldiers.

As the rider neared, splashing trough the water near the tall grass, he realised something. Something shocking. The rider was mounted incorrectly. The rider sat astride the horse, one leg on each side of the saddle as though they were a man. Which was incorrect.

For the rider was a woman.

She let out a cry, like the one Jamie partook in just minutes before, just more shrill and high. The German soldiers and the English riders, who had managed to stay on their horses at the edge of the forest, looked to her, now aware of her presence.

The closer she came, the fiercer she seemed. Her face was creased with a scowl and her brown hair flew wildly around her face, obstructing her features from view. Her skirt (which was the fabric around her hips) floated out behind her like a dark cape. The horse itself was frightening. Its neck was stretched out in front of it, its teeth were bared and its ears laid back against its skull. Jamie could see the (frightening) large whites of its eyes.

She was only moments away on his left when he, along with all the other soldiers from both sides, realised that she wasn't going to stop.

Germans jumped away as she ran straight into the thick of them. It was as she guided the horse in a circle, that Jamie realised what she was doing. The Germans had jumped away from her, and was now ether lying on the ground or far from the young English soldier that they had been trying to pull off the tall chestnut horse he was atop off, leaving the lad a clear path away from the Germans and straight onto the vast field they had charged from.

"Courir! Courir!" she screamed to the young man, waving franticly to the field she came from. Jamie did not know any French, but he had a feeling, judging by the situation they were in, meant something along the lines of 'run' or 'flee'. The young trooper stared at her in shock a moment, before seeming snapping back to reality and pushing his horse forward into a gallop with a huge kick and a loud shout. The horse's large strides swallowed up the ground quickly, running across the field with it tail streaming out behind it.

Her eyes suddenly shot up and locked with Jamie's. He noticed the bright, hazel brown of her eyes before it all became a blur of colour as she shot towards him. He was stunned for a moment as she realised what she was doing. She was going to free him as well. One of the braver German soldiers didn't jump out of the way of the little horse, probably thinking that it would grind to a halt. Instead, he was lost under the equine's hooves with a large, painful cry that Jaime tried extremely hard to ignore. He also quickly looked from the fresh red that quickly stained the grass.

"Aller! Courir!" Her cries where barely heard of the shouts of the German soldiers running forward to try stop her, but she was already speeding to save the next English soldier.

He wanted to stay and help her free some of his soldiers, but he had no weapons, and his rapier had been pulled out of the ground and was lost somewhere in the confusion the woman was causing. So instead, he dug his heals into Topthorn's sides and started across the meadow.

The wind rushed past Jamie's ears as Topthorn seemed to go incredibly faster than he had in the charge, as though he understood the importance of speed in this situation. As the large black horse hurtled over body after body of their fallen comrades, Jamie realised how incredibly unfair this all was. He had ordered these men to their deaths, their pointless deaths, yet he had lived. He was running free. It was as he entered the tall grass he, seeing the easily distinguished track from the trooper who had fled before him he realised he was not safe yet.

He caught up with the lad on the chestnut quickly, their eyes contact connecting for moment before silently deciding to run on together. The truth was; he was sorry for the young man. His messy blonde hair and pink, childish cheeks portrayed his youth. This poor boy was probably happily working on a farm or pushing a merchandise cart before the war began, and now he was here. Experiencing what could only be described as hell.

Fear shot through Jamie as he heard the sound of approaching hoof beats. They were hard to hear over his own horse's footfalls, but he heard them none the less. He turned his head, afraid that some of the Germans had pursued them. Instead, he was welcomed by the sight of another young English soldier. And then another. And another. There were three English troops coming up to join them now. Jamie turned his head back forward so they could not see his smile. This was no time to smile. Men had just died. Lots of men.

'But' Jamie thought to himself 'at least these lads lived'.

A blur of white and black passed him, making him jump slightly. At a second glace, he saw that it was the woman who had freed them. She was now in front of all of them, leaning over her small horse's (Jamie didn't think it was quite small enough to be a pony, but it was cutting it extremely close) neck, rocking with its movement to encourage it faster. When she was a few feet in front of them; she relaxed slightly but remained leant over her horse's neck.

Jamie could vaguely see another horse gaining on him. He turned his head, expecting to see one of the other riders, but was greeted by a sad sight.

It was a horse without a rider. Jamie stared a moment, trying place his finger on the familiarity of the horse. The following recognition made his heart break. A fiery red bay with four, perfectly even white socks and a twinkle shaped star on his forehead. He knew this horse well. It was James' horse.

His friend had been either killed or taken by the Germans. Either way, he was gone. Dead or to die very soon. Jamie couldn't decide what was better; dying or being taken captive.

James' horse- Joey, he was called- ran past him and Topthorn, eager to be the leader of the herd. He came up beside the woman, and Jamie saw her do a small double take. She then leant back so she was sitting in the saddle and Jamie saw her gather her reins in one hand before leaning over and grabbing Joey's reins. She sat up straight again, pulling the bay slightly closer to her.

She ran forward for a few more moments before suddenly taking a sharp left towards more woodlands, taking Joey with her. Topthorn, going back on his herd animal instincts, followed. Jamie thought of leading him away from the woman, going back to their camp maybe. But that could be dangerous for the people who were still there is the Germans were, in fact, pursuing them. So, since she seemed to know what she was doing, he followed the mysterious woman.

The sound of hoof beats morphed quickly into water splashes as the small group entered a stream that ran through woods. Jamie was comforted to know that the other Englishmen had followed the woman as well.

He didn't know how long they ran. They ran through the woods, changing course every once and a while when the stream forked. One thing he did notice was that they stayed in the stream, never leaving the water. He guessed it was to conceal their tracks in case the Germans decided to follow them. I felt like hours before they finally stopped. The stream had widened into a pond and they were once again in a clearing.

The woman was hunched over in her saddle and breathing heavily. She dropped the white horse's reins and stroked it neck as it heaved for air. Then she, surprisingly, swung her leg over the horse's neck and then carefully manoeuvred herself onto Joey's saddle (once again sitting astride as though she was a man). She reached over and looped her horse's reins around the cheek strap on the bridle and throat lash a few times before she let go of the little horse altogether.

Jamie was shocked. He trusted Topthorn, after all he was his horse. But not quite enough to leave him unattended and expect him to stay where he was. And yet she was gladly letting go of this misbehaving horse (it had refused to slow slightly at the beginning of the ride so the other riders could keep up and had tried to bite Joey at least five times) and expect it to be obedient.

The little horse dropped its head to drink and the woman let Joey do the same. It was only then Jamie realised how much Topthorn was heaving and the amount of sweat covering his coat. He allowed him to drop his head and drink as well. The four younger men followed.

After a few minutes of silence the mysterious lady pulled Joey's head back up and nudged him into a trot, setting off across the pond. She whistled and the little white horse looked up and stared for a moments before trotting after its Mistress.

Jamie stood there, not exactly sure what to do. He did not know this woman. He should not trust her. Yet she had freed them (for no apparent reason, mind you). And if he were to leave her, he would have nowhere to go (their path had been too confusing and winding to get back to camp). This was unfamiliar land, so if he were to leave her company, he would no doubt get lost. So he gently pushed Topthorn forward to follow her. He was comforted when he heard the younger men follow as well. Once again, the small group where galloping through the water, re-entering the woods.

***00***

**All of the French in this will be translated through Google translate. So some of the French may be really, really wrong. **

**If there are any spelling or grammar errors (or plot hole or parts that don't make sense), please do inform me.**

**Anycow, this story will based off event in both the movies and the books. Because they are both amazing.**


	2. Conversation

**Chapter 2- Conversation**

It was a few hours later that they stopped again. The sun was setting, illuminating the leaves of the large, dark trees in an almost haunting fashion. The sounds of the running stream and splashes of the horses walking in the water had become almost hypnotic. The woman led them out of the water at a walk and weaved through the trees until they reached a dark, run-down barn not far from the stream.

She dismounted Joey stiffly, taking a moment to rearrange her skirt into a less offensive fashion (she still looked like a mess) before taking hold of the reins and leading him through the broken, rotten door. The woman gave a sharp, high whistle and the small white horse plodded tiredly in after them. Jamie and the young troopers, on the other hand, stayed atop their horses. They weren't exactly sure what they should be doing. Why were they here? Should they be following her in?

The question was answered a moment later when a hand poked out of the door and beckoned them inside with a single wave. Jamie, tired and sore, looked to the younger men. They wore confused and slightly concerned expressions, not sure what to expect inside. They looked back at him, awaiting directions. This reminded him that he was their superior and gave them orders, even though the circumstances had changed severely. They didn't know what to do, so they trusted in his judgment. 'Even though they shouldn't, not anymore' he thought bitterly to himself. Yet he reluctantly dismounted, all of the boys following.

A light illuminated the inside of the barn, leaking out of the glassless windows. Now he could clearly see the broken doors and piles of rotting, black wood around them. Some of the mouldy roof tiles had fallen off and smashed on the ground, revealing the old wooden frame of the building. There were mushrooms and fungus growing on just about everything. Jamie took a deep breath before he led Topthorn into the barn.

The barn was as worst for wear on the inside as it was on the outside; wood splintering and posts collapsing. The five stalls were unlike the ones back at the base in England, which had closed walls and wooden doors. These ones, however, were more like pens, made up of old fences and matching gates. Of course, another difference was that the stalls at the camp were almost perfect condition (save for a few scratches) while the ones here had whole boards missing and posts rotting. And rather than new, clean buckets for water, there were dirty old troughs by the gates for the horses to drink from.

The mysterious lady was holding a lantern and leading Joey into one of the stalls, shutting the gate and latching it closed. The small white horse on the other hand, walked slowly down into the next stall. Jamie was once again shocked by the misbehaving horse's obedience. The woman placed the lantern handle on a rusty hook and went to close the gate for the little horse.

She remained facing away from them and properly fixed her black (and now dirty) skirt so it was higher up her waist, sitting just above her hips so the men could now see the soles of her dark brown leather boots rather than the skirt dragging across the ground, getting dusty . She did up the top button of her short sleeved white shirt (from where it had come undone during the ride), but left the collar button undone. She reached into her breast pocket and pulled out a black ribbon. Then she turned to face them so they could see her properly for the first time.

Her face was thin and her skin pale, clear of any blemishes. She stared at them, analysing them with large, Hazel eyes that had spikes of darker brown. The only word that came to mind while looking into them was 'sharp'. She stood tall, back straight and shoulders pulled back. Her unbuttoned lapel revealed her defined collar-bone. She began to pull her slightly wavy, rich chocolate coloured hair up and away from her straight nose and not high, but by all means sharp cheekbones. Her whole appearance was sharp, really, not just her eyes and cheeks. She was not the most beautiful of women, but at the same time not unattractive. She was rather pretty, really, if slightly terrifying.

She looked at them all in turn, eyes quickly looking them up then down. Her eyes landed on Jamie last and he found himself the subject of her intense and unnerving gaze. He noticed that she stared at him a little longer than the other men, smirking when her eyes landed on his moustache. She finished tying her hair in a high ponytail, long fringe getting pushed behind her ears before letting her arms fall to her sides with a huff. There was a tense silence before she spoke.

"Vous parez francais?" she asked, looking at them expectantly. The soldiers were all silent, not understanding what she had said. It was Jamie who answered.

"I am sorry Miss, but we don't speak French." Even though he was fairly certain that it was French she was speaking, he still hesitated small bit. He also wasn't sure if they all didn't speak the foreign language, but the confused looks on the younger men's faces made him think they didn't. He certainly didn't.

"Ahh" she said before cocking her head to the side slightly "So, you are English soldiers, oui?" Her voice was rich and had a thick French accent, but her English was superb, even better than some of his soldier's (or who had been his soldiers. They were dead now, he remembered with a slight shiver). Where would she learn English like that?

"Yes, Miss." Said one of the troopers behind Jamie. He had brown hair and looked slightly older than the other three boys. Not as old as Jamie, though. The woman nodded, hair bobbing and swaying as she did so.

"We will do pleasantries later." She said harshly, folding her hands neatly in front of her. "But for now, we need to untack the horses. Some of them will have to share stall, but not with Maybell." She said, pointing to the little white horse who he supposed was called 'Maybell'. "She…she…" the woman fumbled with her words a moment, forgetting the one she needed "Dislikes other horses."

Without another word, she turned quickly, making her skirt fly out behind her. She walked over to her small horse's stall and carefully climbed over the top rails of the fence (Jamie was seriously afraid of her safety, since the paper thin plank looked like it was about to snap). The four younger men looked at each other, shocked at the woman's bluntness and lack of introduction. It was Jamie who moved first, tugging gently on Topthorn's reins and leading him over to the stall Joey was in. The two horses seemed to enjoy each other's company, and this way the other soldier's horses would get whole stalls to themselves.

The first thing to two horses did once Topthorn was inside the small pen was nuzzle each other. The sight warmed Jamie's sad heart for a moment, before he began undoing Topthorn's girth. Jamie felt the events of the day weigh down on him and he suddenly felt heavy and tired. Untacking Topthorn was slow and clumsy work, as he fiddled with various buckles and straps. The large horse's head was hanging low and his eyes where shut. Joey, on the other hand, seemed alive and spritely, ears pricked forward and eyes wide.

Jamie was just hauling Topthorn's saddle off his back when the woman slipped into the stall with him and started to take Joey's gear off. Jamie was shocked she finished untacking her own horse so fast, but was grateful. It meant that he didn't have to untack Joey himself. He already thought he might collapse before he could take all of Topthorn's gear off.

"Doez he have name?" her thickly accented voice snapped him out of the small trance he was in. _She missed 'a'._

"Beg your pardon, Miss?"

"Ze horse." She said pointing to Joey "Doez he have name?" Jamie decided it was best not to correct the fact she missed a word.

"Yes. He's name is Joey. He belongs to a friend of mine." His voice became sad as he corrected himself. "He belonged to a friend of mine." The woman looked at him, slightest amount of sympathy in her eyes.

"He is English horse, Oui?" she asked, her voice softer and kinder than before. Jamie forgot his manners and simply nodded. She smiled. "Better speak to him in English then." He did a sort of double take, not quite understanding what she was talking about until she grabbed Joey by the bit and gently pulled his head down in front of her face. The bay struggled for a moment, pulling back against the bit, before calming lowering his head at her will.

"You are very brave." She whispered to him. His ears pricked forward "Your master would have been proud." Joey almost seemed to sadden. She rested her forehead on his and stroked gently up his ears. Jamie continued to slowly untack Topthorn while watching her. After a few moments she drew back and finished untacking him. She untied something Jamie couldn't quite see from his saddle. A banner of some sorts. She stared at it a moment before shoving it into a small pocket in her skirt.

With Joey's saddle and gear safely rested on the side of the fence, the woman didn't bother using the gate as she climbed back over the fence (Jamie flinched when he heard it creak). She walked back to the door of the barn, the orange lantern light throwing her shadows far across the dirty ground.

She bent down and picked up two of five wooden buckets by the door, before marching out into the twilight.

There was a faint squeaking sound outside before she returned, clean water splashing over the rims of the buckets. She walked back over to her small horse's stall, try to avoid the buckets hitting her legs and spilling even more. She carefully emptied both buckets into the small water trough, Maybell dropping her head to suck the water greedily. Marie made her way back to the door of the barn with her now empty buckets, but one of the younger lads had climbed out of his stall and stopped her.

"Please, Miss" he said quietly. "Let me." He reached forward to take the buckets out of her hands but she stepped back. She smiled tightly at the young man before quickly walking back over to her horse's stall, standing in front of the old brown saddle sitting on the even older fence rail. She placed down the buckets and began to dig around in one of her saddle bags before pulling out a small brown fabric bag.

She held the bag out to the boy, but seemed unwilling to move towards him. So, instead, he moved forward and it. She gestured to a ladder (the only thing in the run-down barn the looked slightly new or useable) which led to an empty hay loft (Jamie thought it looked a slight bit dodgy).

"Wait there." She said, her accent almost seemed to be stronger than before. She left no room for argument as she swiftly turned and picked up the buckets before marching out. The boys slowly filed up the ladder, but Jamie stayed.

He could hear the squeak of a water pump in use outside. The younger men might be accepting her generosity, but he accepted enough of it today. She had put herself in danger, saving himself and others from his mistake. He was responsible for this mess. No matter how tired he was, he was going to help her.

She walked back into the barn, pausing when she saw him. She stared at Jamie a moment with the same sharpness in her eyes as earlier, before nodding her head towards the ladder and continued walking, finishing filling up the trough in Maybell's pen. As she made her way back to the door, Jamie spied the other three buckets by door. He picked up two buckets and fell into step beside her as she walked past him on the way out.

Her head snapped to look at him, glaring up at him with her eyebrows furrowed, as though she was angry and confused at the same time. Also annoyed. She stopped just out of the barn, nodding back towards the door. But Jamie stayed by her side. She began walking again, but she continued to stare at him as they made their way out of the door and towards an old water pump in hopes of scaring him off to leave her be. But he stayed beside her. She gave up and instead began to fill her buckets. Rather than walking off when she was done, she waited for him. Awkward tension clung in the air as the pump squeaked. He needed to say something. To start a conversation.

He began to search through the many questions that were in his head, searching for the least offensive. He immediately thought of the buckets that were in their hands. How and why were they there?

"May I ask why the buckets were by the door, Miss?" he spoke what was on his mind, but there was no answer. Only silence and the squeak of the water pump could be heard by Jamie. He didn't expect an answer. He expected her to remain silent. But after a long moment of the deafening quietness, she replied in her harsh voice.

"My sister and I used to come here often, Monsieur, before ze… ze war began." Her voice became quiet at the end. Then she spoke again, voice regaining its harsh bitterness. "I use it as a… bed when I go in town." He, once again, bit his tongue over the lack of a word.

"Do you go into town often, Miss?" They were making their way back into the barn, ready to fill Joey and Topthorn's trough. He had managed to get this out of her; he was going to keep this conversation going. He promised himself to be as polite to any person he met as he could be, and he felt obliged to be especially well-mannered to this woman who had done so much for him and his men (even if it seemed she did not share the same opinion).

"Marie Gilbert" she said, before loudly pouring the water into the trough to keep him from talking**. **He was not going to say anything though, because, admittedly, he was confused. What did 'Marie Gilbert' have to do with anything? She saw the confused look on his face as he poured his water, nudging the horse's necks out of the way so he could do so. She spoke again with the same harsh tone. "My name is Marie Gilbert."

He wanted to smile in triumph. Finally, he knew his saviour's name. He remained polite (as he swore he would), but did not fore-see nor intended for what happened next to occur, but it sadly did.

"Major Jamie Stuart, Miss Gilbert." His back straightened and he made his face emotionless by reflex. It didn't seem like a wrong thing to say to her, but apparently it was, for her expression became even more bitter and she swiftly turned to walk out. He hurriedly followed her.

"Do you go to town often, Miss Gilbert?" He asked again, determined to keep this conversation from ending. He was internally screaming at himself for offending her and losing his minor progress at pleasantries, though he wasn't really sure what he did. He just stated his name and rank, after all. He had remained polite. Perhaps she did not want to know of his ranking? It was the only option that made the slightest sense to him.

"I go when we need supplies, Major Stuart." Half of her sentence was drowned out by the squeak of the water pump as she filled her buckets again. Though he did notice she said the word 'Major' slightly disgusted. He may have wanted a conversation, but Miss Gilbert didn't seem to.

"Do you have a family, Miss Gilbert?" he knew she had a sister for she had told him, but perhaps there were more people in her family. Questions plagued his mind. Where were her family, if she had any? Had she saved more soldiers before this? A horrid thought came to mind. What if she had rescued _German _soldiers? What if he and his troops were going to meet them? The thought sent shudders straight through him.

But asking about her family seemed to be the last straw (there had been few originally, anyway). She turned to him, glaring openly and frighteningly with her large hazel orbs. She turned from him again, swiftly walking back towards the door. He went to follow her, but her head snapped back to look at him in an almost un-human manner.

"Take your buckets to ze loft, Major Stuart." She bit out, glare pinning him in place. She swiftly continued into the barn, leaving Jamie where he was.

He was confused and ashamed. He had only asked her family, yet it had spiralled down-hill so quickly. What was so wrong about asking about her family?

He remained there for a few, long moments before quickly shuffling inside, eager to get to the hay loft and attempt to sleep this whole thing off.

***00***

**Who is Marie's family? I know but you don't… yet. **

**Don't make me seem crazy for Marie talking and Joey kind of understanding, because in the book, it's made clear Joey knows what's going on all the time, conversations and all. And this here is based off both and book, so ya. As you can probably tell by now, Maire isn't the most agreeable of people. She is not going to be one of those kind, perfect damsels made for the protagonist to fall in love with. No way in hell.**

**Anycow, another chapter. This time, I got to squeeze some of my horse vocabulary in here (e,g, girth.)**

**(Also, I know 'white' horses are actually called light grey unless they are albino, but I didn't want folks getting confused. So I said white. Deal with it, little to no people who care.)**

**Inform me of any spelling or grammar errors. Or plot holes. Or parts that don't make sense. Or any type of weirdness/ badness, really. I have re-read this so many times I'm sick of it.**

**Also, I don't really know what a French accent sounds like, so I'm doing the best I can here with that.**


	3. Remorse

**Chapter 3- Remorse**

It took an extreme amount of effort to get one bucket of water up the ladder without spilling any (he decided to ignore the few drops that had soaked his uniform). He left the other bucket on the floor, unable to be bothered to haul the heavy wooden vessel up into the loft.

He quickly silenced his loud breathing when he saw the four younger soldiers littered across the floor, sleeping soundly. Jamie remained completely still, bucket of water rocked gently from the handle in his hand. He looked around for a place to sit, finding a small spot at the back, behind all the boys. He could also see the small brown bag the Maire had handed the blonde young man. So he started to make his way towards the rear of the room, jumping around as quietly as he could manage. As he took a large step over one of the young men (he had brown hair a smudge of dirt of his rosy cheek), the bucket swung on its handle, causing some of the water to spill over the edge. A drop of water catapulted out of the safety of the bucket and quickly hurdled towards the ground as gravity intended. Except it didn't hit the ground. No. Instead, the big, fat water drop landed on the boy's forehead.

Jamie stilled. The boy's eyes squeezed shut and he turned his head away slightly, the water droplet sliding from his forehead and onto the floor. His brow remained furrowed for a moment more before relaxing again. Jamie could barely supress a relieved sigh. Knowing his luck, it would be the sigh that woke the boy, not the tidal wave that had just landed on his forehead.

Jamie held his breathe as he walked quietly through the maze of bodies. It was only when he was safely at the back of the loft before he let that breath go. He gently placed the bucket on the ground next to the small bag, leaning against the wall and sliding down to the ground. Leaning towards the bucket, he used his cupped hand to scoop up water to drink. His eyes slid over to the little fabric bag.

It was opened on the floor very close to him. He could see a few small, brown crumbs on the edge of the bag and on the floor around it. His curiosity was piked then, more so than it had been before. He leaned forward and reached for the bag. He gripped the fabric delicately between his thumb and forefinger, dragging it across the floor towards him. Picking it up and carefully opened it, he was pleasantly surprised to find a few slices of hard, brown bread.

He may have found the surprise nice, but it didn't mean he was hungry. In fact, he was the exact opposite. He was more warmed by the fact that the harsh, bitter French woman gave her food to them. She hardly seemed like the type of person to share and care. But, then again, she had risked her life to help them. The German soldiers could have easily killed her. He peeled a few flakes off of the crust from one of the pieces of bread, but otherwise, ate nothing.

He laid he head back against the wall in order to try calm down. The exhaustion he had felt before was gone; it disappeared whilst he had been filling the water troughs. So he tried to find something to ease him into slumber.

His ears picked up the sound of the occasional rustle or bump from down stairs. The sounds of Marie moving unknown equipment was a nice distraction, the hypnotic sound he needed to begin to ease him to sleep slowly, exhaustion creeping back. Then, the sound of shoe soles delicately climbing up the ladder (probably so the rungs didn't collapse).

Jamie was, once again, wide awake. The footsteps stopped at the top of the ladder just as he had. It was after a short silence before he heard her carefully walk around the sleeping boys. She was coming towards him, Jamie realised, or perhaps more the water and bread. He doubted she would want to be near him after his conversation slip up (though he was still not quite sure what he did wrong).

Her quite foot falls stopped just in front of him. He cracked his eye open ever so slightly so he could watch her. She bent down carefully and picked up the bucket of water and placed the lantern she had bought up down. She took the water towards the other wall, Jamie noticing she was walking with her legs apart slightly. After it was gently placed down she lowered herself to the ground. Jamie struggled to keep his eyes only slightly open as he observed her pull a folded handkerchief out of the breast pocket of her blouse and carefully dip it into the bucket of water. Jamie then watched in shock as she pulled the hem of her skirt up past her knees.

He was about to avert his gaze from her exposed legs, when he saw the horror hidden underneath the fabric.

Riding like a man had taken its toll on her, especially since she had been wear black stockings to protect her legs, not trousers (which he had originally thought they were when her first saw her at distance). The stockings had holes in them on the inside of the knees, caused no doubt by the old, rough leather of the saddle. The skin was red and raw, blisters formed and forming created an ugly pattern on her skin. There was the slightest amount of blood around the worst of the blisters.

Miss Gilbert draped the soaked piece of fabric over her legs the irritated skin, pressing down on it lightly and wincing slightly in pain.

"Perhaps riding properly would have been a better option, Miss Gilbert." The words slipped out of Jamie's mouth before he could filter them. He wanted hit himself. Hard. In the face. With a brick. If asking about her family had upset her, he was afraid what this stupid comment would make her do.

As he had guessed, the glare she gave him in response was murderess.

"You should be sleeping." She had stared out almost shouting, but quietened dramatically as she remembered the four sleeping men around them. But she continued to glare at him, not even blinking. It was rapidly becoming unnerving.

"I am sorry, Miss." These were the only words Jamie could force out of his mouth. He felt his throat close up and palms become sweaty. She was going to kill him, no doubt. He had apologized quickly to try to get her to look away from him. But she continued to glare at him.

"Get some sleep, Major Stuart." Her voice was harsh and heavily accented. "We will be leaving at midnight."

He quickly lay on his sides and closed his eyes, happy to have her eyes off of him. Miss Gilbert, on the other hand, kept cleaning and soothing her wounds in the cold water. It was the sound of dripping of water as the handkerchief was pulled soaked from the bucket that eventually lulled Jamie to sleep.

*00*

_He was sitting on Topthorn, but that was all he could gather for a moment. He could see his horse's neck and the back of his big, black ears, but not much else. Just a grey haze surrounding him. Then, slowly, trees came into view, fading in from the endless oblivion. As did brown, damp leaves covering a forest floor. The shrubs growing on the ground. The clearings in the distance. Then, finally, men. There was rows and rows of men, young and old (mostly young), sitting astride horses in their clean, olive coloured cavalry uniforms atop shined saddles._

_ "__Gentlemen."_

_He heard his own, strong voice ring out in the trees, startling him momentarily. He wasn't speaking, not purposefully at least. They were not his own words. He tried to move, but found he could not. He was trapped, in a certain manner, within his own body. But the words didn't stop._

_"__It is an honour to ride beside you."_

_It was then he recognized where he was, to his horror. He tried to stop talking, to keep the words un-said, but, like before, he had no control over them. He tried to stay quiet, tried to move but couldn't. He was trapped watching, trapped listening. His body was still not responding to his wishes._

_ "__Make the __Kaiser rue the day he crossed swords with us."_

_It was not the Kaiser who would rue the day. It was Jamie who would, who _did_. It would be the other superiors who had sent their men, men with families and friends, to their pointless death. Because that's what their deaths had been. Pointless. Jamie's men, his friends, had barely made a dent in the German army. If anything, they helped them. Now that German garrison, perhaps many more, would learn from his mistake, just as Jamie _wished _he could. But he couldn't fix his errors. He couldn't say no to the plan and stay at camp. He couldn't even do that is this dream, it seemed._

_"__Let every man do himself, his King, his country, and his fallen comrades proud."_

_Jamie felt no pride. Just remorse. He tried to stop himself from talking but could not. He tried to turn, tried to look away from the men's face. But he could not. The faces full of hope and mild excitement and fear. He didn't want to look, but at the same time felt obliged to._

_"__Be brave. Fear god, honor the king!"_

*00*

Jamie was shocked awake by a hard kick to the leg. He took a sharp intake of breath as he shot upright like a prairie dog. He looked around, unable to see anything but black. He could _feel _the open space around him, but he could _see _it. It was as his eyes adjusted and he looked around that he remembered where he was. For, standing above him, was and annoyed looking Marie Gilbert.

"Get Up." She hissed, before turning and making her way back towards the ladder. From down stairs, he could see the soft glow of, what no doubt was, a lantern's light. He looked around the loft to see that the four other men were no longer there.

He remembered how Miss Gilbert had said 'we will be leaving at midnight'. Judging by how dark it was out, it was midnight. Thus, time to move.

Tacking up was a quick, but hard process, on account there was the light of only one lantern to go by. A lantern at the other end of the stall row. Jamie went completely by memory of the buckles and straps, hoping he hadn't messed anything up. He was grateful Miss Gilbert tacked up Joey; otherwise he himself would have had to do it.

They were outside now, plodding back to the stream. They were not speeding along as they had been before, for both men and beasts were still sore and exhausted from the hard riding only hours before. They were all tired. Well, except for Miss Gilbert, it seemed. She was slightly in front of them; Jamie could see her blouse and Maybell's coat clearly in the night, almost glowing. Her back was still straight and she didn't seem in the least bit weary. She had pulled the reins over Joey's neck and held them in her hand. The other soldiers were a short distance behind them, muttering quietly amongst themselves. Marie and Jamie, it seemed, were not invited into the conversation. Which gave them the perfect opportunity to create their own. Jamie still wanted to make up for the things he had said to offend her before.

He nudged Topthorn into a slow, lazy trot so he was beside her before slowing the great animal back to a walk. She turned to look at him, before realizing who it was and turning her head back to the front (not before sending him a quick glare). Jamie remained silent, once again searching through the many questions the woman before him had raised. It was the name of her horse that he decided would be a good way to calm the tension.

"Maybell-"he was going to continue his question, but she interrupted him rather rudely.

"Yes, Major Stuart." She said sharply, speaking his name with a particular distaste. He waited a few moments before finishing his sentence.

"It is a rather strange name for a French horse. May I inquire to how she got it, Miss Gilbert?" He was not expecting an answer. It was obvious she did not like him, so why answer his questions?

"My mother named her. She spoke good English, and thought it was attractive." She replied tartly. 'Spoke'. Past tense. He wanted to ask if her mother had died or if something else happened to her, but didn't want to offend Marie any more than he already had. But this did open a question he had been curious about for a while. (Also, 'attractive' was notthe word she should have used in the sentence.)

"Did your mother teach you English, Miss Gilbert?" He wanted to know answer so badly. But she turned her head towards him slightly, glaring at him. She seemed to do that to him a lot. Glare. He was once again unsure if she was going to answer.

"Yes." She replied, harsh and cold. Then she was gone, cantering ahead on her little horse. Jamie managed to push Topthorn forward rather quickly, though the big horse tried to resist going faster. But the other men were not ready, and fumbled for the reins a moment before speeding up to try to catch up with the other mounts.

*00*

It was dawn when they finally left the water again. The air around them was foggy, causing dew to stick to the ground below them. The sun was only just peaking over the horizon, painting the sky with multiple shades of pink and orange. The small stream, which at most gone half way up the horse's canon, had widened into a creek and swallowed up the horse's knees with its swirling, murky waters.

They cantered tiredly along a dirt road through a meadow, hiding their hoof prints amongst the many others covering the path. Jamie's eyes slid over to Maybell. Unlike Topthorn (and all the other on the ride), who was exhausted, she seemed to want to go faster. It seemed unreal that the pale pony was this fast and had this much stamina.

She was a dainty little thing. Her head was fine, small and dished. Her muzzle was a light grey, as were her legs beyond her knees, and she had a blush pink snip bang in the middle of her nose. It didn't really resemble anything; it was just a blob of pink. Her nostrils were flared and she was pulling against the bit in hopes to speed along impossibly faster.

As they continued to speed along the dirt path, Jamie took in the sights around him. There were nice flowers and shrubs, the occasional tree and even an old but still functioning windmill. Then a unpainted wooden fence appeared beside them. Inside the fence was an abundance of trees and pale flowers. There was even a small pond situated at the bottom of circular hill, like it was supposed to be full all the way but was not. Then, in the distance, a farm house. It looked old, but nowhere near as old as barn they had spent the early part of the night in. It also had a small barn, equally as old. There were a few ploughed patches of land close to the house and a string clothes line. He saw a small figure in white run out of the house.

Then Marie loosened her hold on Maybell's reins, letting the little horse race forward, dragging poor Joey along with them. Jamie nudged Topthorn's sides, and he could have sworn he felt the stallion _groan_, before obediently speeding to keep up with pair in front. But he couldn't. They raced ahead, not slowing even a fraction, leaving the five men in the dust.

When they reached the courtyard in front of the farm house, Maire pulled Maybell's reins hard, slowing from a gallop to a complete halt with a simple knee lock on the horse's part. A cloud of dust rose up from the ground a floated around them for a moment. Marie dismounted, throwing her legs over horse's neck rather than its rump, jumping to the ground and letting Joey's reins go. It's not like he was going anywhere, on account that he looked almost too tired to stand, let alone race from the courtyard and into freedom.

Jamie could see the figure very clearly now as he eased Topthorn to halt next to Maybell. It was a girl.

She was young, her roundish face proved that. No older than twelve, perhaps thirteen at the most. She wore a long sleeved, mid-calf length white dress with little blue flowers printed on it. Over that, a dirty cream apron that came just above the hem of her skirt. She wore scuffed brown boots, just like Maire's, but much lighter. She had pale brown hair, many shades lighter than Marie's. Half of her locks were pulled up into a messy pigtail by a faded pink ribbon, while the other half was left untied, falling over her shoulders and back. She was smiling widely and brightly, her large hazel eyes twinkling. It was the Hazel eyes that gave it away. Underneath the youthful roundness of her face, he could already see her cheek bones. But she seemed much kinder than the older woman. It was that that fact that made Jamie doubt his theory. But what happened next certainly supported it.

"Maire!" the girl screamed joyfully, rushing towards the older woman with her arms stretched. The darker haired brunette bent down and scooped the girl up in a hug, twirling her around and laughing happily. This proved it to Jamie. This girl was, most likely, Marie's sister.

"Emilie, ma chérie, comment il est bon de vous voir!" she said, placing the girl- Emilie- back down on the ground and knelt in front of her. Emilie opened her mouth to speak, the first excited syllable left her mouth, but then the words died in her throat. Her already wide eyes become even more so as they landed on Jamie. Her mouth dropped completely as she stared at him, now standing beside Topthorn. She stood there, gaping, eyes shift from one soldier to the next. Marie followed the girl's gaze, panicking herself when she realised what she was looking at.

"Emilie-"she said hurriedly, but was silenced by a loud creak. It was the kitchen door that opened, this time an old man appeared. He had a worn face and silver hair that reached his chin. His garments were a dirty, blue shirt with a black knit vest and dark grey trousers. His eyes were tired and sad, yet brightened significantly when they landed on the form of the older girl.

"Maire…" he smiled at first, voice warm and affectionate. But the man saw what the girl had missed at first straight away. The soldiers. He looked shocked and bewildered for a moment, before his expression darkened dramatically.

"Marie." It seemed more like a growl now. Maire slowly stood, and carefully nudged Emilie behind her. She did not seem worried or afraid, just ever so slightly cautious.

"Grandpère." She said innocently, raising her chin slightly. Her eyes were wide and innocent, but the smaller of the two girls still hid behind her skirt.

Her mock innocence seemed to set the old man off, for he lurched into a French rant. He didn't just shout. No. He _thundered. _Emilie was not afraid, but she still hid behind her sister's skirt whilst Marie remained tall and proud, with her head held high. She gave the occasional short answer, which seemed infuriate the man impossibly more.

The onslaught ended and there was silence, thick and heavy. It hung in the air for a few moments, and then Maire did something daring. She spoke, almost more innocently than before.

"Ainsi peuvent-ils rester?" Emilie gasped quietly and finally cowered back the slightest amount. Marie remained standing straight, ready to face the consequences for whatever the hell she just asked of 'Grandpère'. The man seemed to become impossibly more furious before slumped over slightly in defeat and sighed deeply. There was yet another heavy silence.

"Emilie." He stated tiredly, causing the little girl to squeak, much like a mouse. She looked at the man with wide eyes. His eyes, on the other hand, were on the ground with his head bowed. His hand rested on his forehead, and with the help of his hair, blocked his face from view. He finished his statement in the same quiet, tired voice. "Aide Maire a mis les chevaux loin."

Emilie's face filled with excitement and Maire quickly walked forward, placing a peak on the old man's cheek. His head snapped up, his eyes held amusement. But his voice was entirely different as a few sentences of French spurted from his mouth in a bitter tone.

'Grandpère means grandfather.'

Jamie didn't know where the knowledge came from. He didn't know where he picked it up, but it was there now. 'Grandpère means grandfather'. It was the bitter tone that had made it click. The tone so like Maire's. 'So that's where she gets it from'.

Maire laughed and gave a few word reply to her grandfather, before turning to Jamie. The clear determination on her face made him want to gulp and cower like Emilie had. But he remained how he was, hoping to seem as though she had no effect on him. But she did. Because she was terrifying. She walked towards him, strides large and purposeful. When she reached him, she grabbed the reins from him, tugging on Topthorn to move to the next soldier and his horse, not even giving Jamie a sideways glance. Emilie (bouncing rather than walking, it seemed) had taken both Maybell's and Joey's reins and was leading them to the little old barn.

"Follow me, Messieurs." The old man spoke, shocking Jamie. He spoke marvellous English, much like Marie. Did Emilie speak English as well? If so, how well?

Maire had swiped all of the reins out of the soldier's hands, and was now leading the five horse parade into the barn after her sister. The boys timidly followed the man through the door, while Jamie tried to keep his brave face and posture as they entered the house.

All of the furniture and fixtures were a pale, raw wood, with no sort paint or varnish. The only things that were not wood were the cheap, white plaster on the walls, the chairs in the sitting room and the brick and stone around the fire place. There were two small rooms on either side of the door and a staircase in line with it. On their right was a sitting room with three brown, old (_extremely _old) plush chairs. They were set up in a triangle; one of the chairs had a woven basket of plain coloured wool balls and a pair of knitting needles inside. At the back of the room was a wooden table and stool against the wall. There was a variety of pins and needles in a bowl in the back corner of the surface, along with a pair of old, thin scissors and a faded measuring tape. Next to the table was a pile of neatly, tightly fold plain fabrics. On the left of the door was a small kitchen. Next to them, against the wall underneath the widow, was a wooden bench with a water pump and sink. In the centre of the room was a dark wooden table and chairs surrounding it. Shelves lined the wall, full of jars (some were empty, but many were fill with what looked to be jam), pots and cooking utensils. One shelf was devoted entirely to plates, while another for bowls. There was a fire place on the far wall, surrounded by brick and sooty stone on the floor. It was not lit, but there were burnt logs, still smoking slightly and filling the room with a woody smell. There was a large bowl of strawberries in the sink and something cooking in a large pot on the simple stove. There was also a large tin of sugar on the table, next to other, smaller bowls of fruit.

The soldiers were herded to the table by the old man. There was a moment of subtle chaos as they shuffled around in attempts to find a chair to sit in. The grandfather strode over to the large pot on the stove and scooped some of the contents- porridge- into five small bowls which, in turn, were placed in front of the men. At first they were almost afraid to eat, but hunger quickly passed their nervousness and they ate. They tried to pace themselves, mostly succeeding. But every few moments, they were overcome with the desire to shove the food into their gob, and hurriedly scoop a few spoonfuls of the slosh into their mouths before slowing down to the average pace. Grandfather leant on the back of one of the few empty chairs, staring (or was he glaring?) at them in turn (another feature Marie seemed to have inherited).

"How did you come into my Granddaughter's care?" He shocked them into silence. Speaking a proper, fully punctuated sentence, they realised just how fantastic his English was, much better than Marie's. But he made them, these grown men, sound like infants, in need of constant care and assistance. And from a _woman_, of all things.

Jamie, who had been the main speaker throughout the whole 'trip' remained silent, for once not quite sure of what to say. It was one of the lads -the blonde, fresh cheeked one- that spoke softlyS. He gave a vague, short story of the events that had taken place not even twenty-four hours before. The old man's fury, which had fully receded, began welling up again as the story proceeded (particularly at the part where she had saved them, running straight into the midst of the enemy soldiers). When the boy finished his story, there was a long moment of drawn out silence. Than the old man was consumed by rage, slamming his fist down on the table with a short growl, before turning, slamming open the door storming out into the courtyard.

"MARIE!" they could hear his angered roar from the kitchen, echoing across the vast countryside around the farm. Jamie could see the woman in question standing in the door way of the barn, looking confused and slightly concerned. But she was not afraid.

One thing was for certain. Maire was in big, _big _trouble.

***00***

**This line here is to see if underline works on this website. If there is no underline, it doesn't work. If there is, goodo.**

**'****Gilbert' is pronounced 'Jilbert' in this case. I think. It sounds French, so I'm going to go with it.**

**These chapters are steadily getting longer. I'll try to make them shorter in future (probably not going to happen though). Like, seriously. There is a 4000 word difference between this and my draft. I've got to stop describing shit.**

**Jamie speaks fancy and polite 'cause he seems fancy and polite.**

**I hope you have figured out by now that these notes are just a tonne of dot-point-like notes of info that most people won't read. I never usually do, at least. (should it be 'tonne' or 'ton'. Hmmm.) If you read author's notes, or more my author's notes, can you please inform me in your own, creative way. Or just review, because I'm lonely and have no social life.**

**Bombe Alaska, Bitches. Yes, I will be swearing.**

**P.S Holy shiet! My b-day was on the 8****th****, and my friend got me the ****_Illustrated _****War horse book. I am over the moon right now!**


	4. Weeks

**This is not written as a 'proper' chapter, just a soft of 'filler'. Thought I should point that out before you decide this is lazy writing and stop reading. (It's not ****_lazy_****, it's just I'm too un-creative to figure out a proper way to go about it in the time limit I have set myself.**

***00***

**Chapter 4- Weeks**

And trouble she was in. It was a good half an hour of shouting from the courtyard before the old man trudged off to the fields and Marie stomped inside. She busied herself with gathering the soldier's now empty porridge bowls and taking them over to the sink. She all but threw the strawberries out of the way, having a small moment of panic when they almost fell off the bench. But after she steadied them, she was straight back into her temper-fuelled rush, scrubbing the bowls at a remarkable speed. The men at the table remained silent, afraid to utter a word in case she directed her fury to one of them. It was obvious by now that this woman had a temper, a _mammoth_ one at that. The second the last bowl was cleaned and slammed down on the bench she turned to them, eyes blazing with rage.

"Stand." She said harshly. They all stood quickly, even Jamie, not wanting to anger the woman further (although they were unwilling to admit it, they were absolutely _terrified _of her). She continued speaking just as harshly, gesturing to the door as she did so. "Out."

They all shuffled out. A new sort of fear was filling Jamie. Was she kicking them out? Although she had done so much for the already, Jamie couldn't help but feel it was unfair. It was stupid, but mostly founded on the fact he didn't know where the English cavalry camp was. It had probably packed up by now, news of their failure had mostly likely reached them (Jamie hoped, _prayed, _that it had. They need to get out of there). If she kicked them out now, there was no way they could find their way back to… well… anywhere. He remained panicking as they gathered outside the door nervously. But then Marie trudged outside with a look that could kill.

"Follow." She barked, making her way towards the barn. Jamie looked out to the field, seeing the little black and blue figure of Grandfather plodding around in a vaguely angry manner (really must run in the family).

They walked through the open door of the barn, the smell of hay and wood hitting them like a brick. They saw their horses, now clean, brushed and gleaming, dozing off. The seven army horses were shoved into three stalls, whilst Maybell was, once again, by herself. A straw-covered Emilie was standing next to an awake, but exhausted looking Joey, stroking his neck gently. Her eyes followed them as they walked up towards the back of the barn. Jamie spotted his horse, head hanging low and snoring slightly. He wanted to go to Topthorn, but Marie herded them up a ladder and into a (yet another) hay loft. This one, though, was unlike the one they had spent the night in. This one had bales and bales of hay stacked up to the roof, with loose pieces scattered over the floor. There was no rotting or broken wood here, just a few coils or fraying rope around the place. She led them towards the very back corner of the loft, where there was a gap between the wall and another pile of hay. When the boys shuffled out of the way, and was shocked to see a small door.

It was half the size of the average door, and made of dark wood. The door was open, revealing a small, dark room inside. No windows, just the light from the doorway. There were bales of hay, lined up in pairs, one on every wall and in the centre of room. Faded sheets covered the bales, cascading over the sides and spilling over the floor. Atop of those, were pillows stuffed with more lose straw.

Beds. They were beds.

"Ziz was my sister's _pièce secrete_." Marie spoke, anger mostly gone from her voice, leaving only the slightest amount of irritation. "But it iz yours, for now."

So, this was where they would be sleeping. The younger men filed in slowly into the room, Marie shoving a lantern and matches into their hands. But Jamie stayed outside, standing beside Marie. She looked sad. She was watching the boys move their straw pillows around and fold their sheets.

"He said it was dangerous to help you. Zat I should not have." She said quietly, accent almost non-existent in her softness. Her straight back was now hunched, and she seemed deflated. Jamie looked at her, confused and not sure what she was going on about. Marie looked to him and saw his expression. She straightened up quickly, harsh look returning to her face, and gesture for him to enter the little room.

She turned and marched back towards the ladder, skirt trailing out behind her. Jamie stared after her a moment, even more confused as her thought her words over, before joining the other soldiers in examining their new 'home'.

The rest of the day was mostly dancing around each other and the delicate matters of them being here. Very few talked to Jamie at first. In fact, the only person to talk to him was Marie, in a brief, rushed, but polite conversation about nothing of particular importance (just weather or something equally as forced and quaint). The soldiers didn't talk to him. No. They did not utter a word to him. But he did stand near them enough to hear them, thus learning their names.

Freddy. Charles. Jack. George.

He learnt their names by listening to them, not talking to them. They never talked to him.

Freddy was the blonde boy with the chubby, rosy cheeks. He had revealed to the other soldiers, when he had thought Jamie was not listening, that he was sixteen, not the necessary eighteen years of age for enlisting for the army. He was not very strong or brave. His father was the one who had signed him up for the Calvary, not the boy himself. But for what he lacked in strength, he made up for in heart. He was kind, courageous and very emotional. He smiled kindly to Emilie when she bounded around them, and agreed to help Grandfather make jam when asked (the others had sniggered and called the job a boring waste of time).

Charles was the older brown haired boy. He had not uttered a word to Jamie, but he seemed to talk around the other men. He had shaper, more defined features then the rest of the boys, but was nothing next to Marie and her cheekbones. He also seemed to have this completely unfounded annoyance for Emilie.

Jack. Jamie could use one word to describe the little ginger- haired brat. Annoying. As soon as Marie or the Grandfather turned their back after giving an instruction or making a request, he would mimic their accent. Jamie didn't know what infuriated him more. The fact Jack did it or that the other boys laughed. (Jamie called them boys because the eldest, Charles, was twenty, barley a match for Jamie's twenty-eight).

George was the smaller of the brown-haired boys. Jamie didn't think much of him. Not in a bad way, but more to the fact that the lad seemed to fade into the background when in a conversation with the others, only laughing or throwing in a comment when absolutely necessary. He seemed like the sort of person to work alone, yet he was always next to at least one of the other soldiers whilst doing some of the little chores Grandpére was already asking of them.

Jamie sighed. With nothing to do and the horses now resting, thoughts were begin consuming him. Horrid, guilty thoughts. The image of bodies littered across the ground flashed in front of his eyes every few minutes, reminding him where he had been only a day before (god, it only _one day_). He could do nothing to pass the time efficiently, since the boys had taken over the chores, his mind was now beginning to wonder. He needed a distraction. He needed to get away from the thoughts in his own head.

And he found a distraction later that afternoon. The sun was setting, bathing the courtyard in an orange light and throwing the shadows around. The distraction came in the form of a little girl in a white, flower print dress, jumping up and down in attempts to reach the clothes on the clothes line. She was having extremely hard time reaching the piece of rope (which was extremely, ridiculously high up), and was starting to tire.

This was a good distraction.

He began to walk towards her, determination perhaps too evident on his face, for when she looked up to him, fear suddenly coated her features. He tried to seem less intimidating as he continued to walk towards her. She had stopped jumping up to rope, just staring at him as he gained on her. When he was in front of her, just staring at her a moment. They looked at each other, timid look on her face, until he reached up and took hold of the clothes line and pulling it down to Emilie's level. She stared a moment, before smiling brightly and beginning to pluck the clothes off of the line.

"Merci, Monsieur!" she was smiling brightly, pulling the pieces of fabric off in a happy hurry. 'Merci' meant 'thank-you', Jamie knew that much. He stared at the clothes for a moment, the clean pieces of fabric making him envious. He felt suffocated in his dirty (balancing on the line of filthy) uniform, it suddenly feeling tight on him. He didn't think Emilie spoke English, for he had not heard her utter a word of his language. So, he answered in words he didn't think she wouldn't understand.

"You are quite welcome, little Miss." He spoke happily. She may not have understood him, but it was refreshing to finally have someone talk to him. The tense, awkward silence had been following him all day and it was well on its way to exhausting him, was slowly fizzing out. But then she had paused, a look of sheer concentration covered her features as she mouthed his words slightly. He realised then she understood his words, just not immediately. She looked like she was slowly figuring the words out. It was very clear the moment she did.

"I am not _petit_!" she half shouted, but there was a large smile on her face. She giggled, before pulling down another item of clothing -a shirt- off of the line. He found himself smiling back, refreshed by her childishness. He helped her pull the clothing off while conversing in faulty, halted English (a good half of her sentences were made up of French).

_Marie paused in the door way of the barn, staring at the soldier and her sister. They were both laughing and smiling, he pulling the clothes line down for her to reach. Marie smiled for a moment, before frowning and walking back into the barn._

*00*

It was Marie who was the arty, crafty member of the family. The knitting in the basket and sewing equipment on the table belonged to her. They realised this when the soldiers timidly walked into the kitchen the next morning to find her half asleep at the table with five small, neatly folded pieces of cloth. She had clumsily handed a pile of fabric to the each of them, eyes almost fully closed and half-way to unconscious. There was a fire lit, warming to room and making it harder for her to remain awake.

It was upon a further inspection that they all realised that folded cloth was, in fact, She had spent the whole night sewing.

She had given a harsh instruction to go and change clothes quickly and to bring their now filthy uniforms back, all except for the boots. They did as they were told, trudging back to the barn to change (Jack, of course, threw in an imitation of tired Marie once they were out of ear shot, causing to younger men to laugh. But not Jamie). The changing part was awkward, all having to find a piece of wall they could stare at without seeing each other.

Jamie had a pair of grey trousers and a white shirt much like the Grandfather's. In fact, he guessed that they were either some of the man's clothes that were modified, or Maire made the family's clothes. The other boys had much the same style of clothes; only differences were small things such as colour and buttons.

They bought their uniforms back to the farm house and placed them in front of the dozing Marie. She jolted awake sniffing and blinking for a moment before stretching and looking through the bundle of clothes on the table (Jamie was the only one who had folded his uniform). After making sure that every piece of their uniform was there (save for their boots of course, which they were wearing), she gathered them in her hands, turned in her seat at the head of the table, and threw them into the fire.

The boys shouted, not words but more strangled sounds. They were distraught that the things that had bought them honour and pride at home, burn as though it were simply tinder. Jamie, on the other hand, was over the moon to see the things get destroyed. He would have done the same sooner or later, in hopes of repressing the memories of his mistakes. But he knew it would never really happen.

"Silence!" Marie whisper shouted, efficiently shutting them up. But Marie seemed to launch into some sort of rant, anger fuelling her words, accent distorting her words. "I have risked my life for _you. _I have risked my family's lives for you. If ze Germon armie findz your uniforms, we are all _dead - mort_!"

The boys remain silent as she turned, averting her glare from them, and poking the fire and burning clothes with a metal rod.

Jamie was happy to see them be reduced to nothing but black ash.

*00*

"Ne la touchez pas!" Marie cried, arms thrown out in Jamie's direction and fear clear in her voice. His hand was hovering near Maybell's neck, intending to give her a gentle stroke but stopped dead before he could due to her panicked voice.

There was a moment of silence. It was only Jamie's second day at the farm. Marie had come up to him after an awkward breakfast and asked (demanded) that he help her with caring for the horses.

"Do not touch her." She translated, much calmer than she had been just a moment ago. Jamie quickly pulled his hand away from the small horse. It was a good thing he did, because a moment later, the pale pony's head shot out and she tried to land a bite on him.

He stuck to caring for the soldier's horses.

*00*

Marie wasn't particularly fond of the soldiers, but nor did she dislike them. She accepted that they were there, but she didn't talk politely like Grandpére or laugh with them like Emilie. She just accepted their presence and went on with her work. But sometimes they could not be ignored. This was one of those times.

She needed to go back into town. The little village was almost deserted now, since the war was creeping closer and almost all the men were fighting in said war. The little French family were pretty self-sustaining, but still need some of the basic necessities (it turned out she was on her way into town when she had run into the Germans and freed them). For example, the reason for this trip was the fact that the three chickens had died (a fox had come and killed them in the early morning. It murdered all three, but only carried away one when a furious and hysterical Maire chased it from the tiny hen house behind the barn).

That is why she sat atop her little horse (who had arched her neck and was currently chewing at the bit between her teeth), one leg on either side of the saddle, as usual. Jamie was no longer bothered by seeing her ride like this, for he had seen it many times as she rode around in the mornings. But the other men, it seemed, were not as accustomed to it as Jaime. Jack, in fact, proceeded to state his opinion rather loudly.

"Are you not going to ride properly?" He said rudely, not even throwing in the slightest politeness. Jamie cringed slightly, feeling momentarily sorry for him before realising he deserved every insult he was about to cop from Marie.

She turned to him angrily, now infamous glare plastered back on her face.

"If ze world was a reasonable place, men would be the one riding side saddle!" she growled, nudging Maybell in to a spritely walk, walking quickly away from the soldiers and the farm. The men were shocked into silence. What she had said was scandalous, so much so most of the soldiers began to feel disgusted. But not Jamie. He felt… _happy_. He responded to her words quickly.

"Look at it this way, gentlemen." Jamie said, trying to keep the strange sudden smugness out of his voice. These were some of the first words he had spoken to them, on accounts most of his conversations took place with Marie, Grandfather and Emilie (he and the girl had formed a nice little bond). "If she didn't ride astride, we would all probably be in the German's hands."

It was true. Although he had seen a few women speed along whilst riding side saddle, it was still clear that sitting atop the horse was still a faster way of traveling. And then he saw it.

Marie was only a few lengths away from them, and she must have heard what Jamie had said. Her head turned slightly, revealing the smallest of smiles before she urged Maybell into a trot, then a canter, before disappearing down the dirt road and behind the small hills.

She did not return of three days.

***00***

**Boom de yada, boom de yada, that sucked like pina colada. …WTF is a pina colada… (turns out it's an alcoholic drink. Joy). I just said it 'cause it rhymed in my head.**

**So yeah. That sucked. He he. Yeah, review because I'm lonely. And have social life. Which would explain me trying to rhyme boom de yada and pina colada. I'm a bit of a sad loser.**

**The more I read this, the less I'm happy with it.**

**I just memorized 'Gatsby believed in the green light' for the fun of it. I am a sad human being if that's what I do for fun.**


	5. Ride

**Chapter 5- Ride**

Summer was slowly coming to an end. Winter was still a long way off, but it was steadily advancing on them. The mornings were becoming cooler, the dew covering the ground occasionally forming crystal-like frost on particularly chilly mornings, before it quickly defrosted into little speckles of water. Jamie knew that soon, as the cold season came closer, that the frost would not thaw out so swiftly. In fact, it would barely thaw at all and be accompanied by snow, but it was still a long way off.

The residents of the farm and the soldiers had formed a nice (if not slightly awkward) routine, side by side. The girls (Marie and Emilie) did things such as laundry and berry picking, finishing all of the little fiddly jobs. Freddy, was also better at the small delicate jobs and jam making, which he did with Grandpére. Charles did most of the heavy lifting (not that there was that much of that), whilst Jack and George tended mostly to the land (both being farmers, it turned out). But Jamie didn't really have a work criteria, he just did the work that needed doing. But, mostly, he tended to the horses.

It was after breakfast one morning that Emilie came bounding up to him. The sun was just rising and painting all surfaces in soft pink, fog drifting over the grassy fields and coating the lawn in dew. It had rained late last night, turning most of the dirt to hard mud. The little girl had a huge, gleeful smile on her face. Jamie couldn't help but smile right on back. He liked Emilie. The boys still had not willingly talked to him, so his main source of conversation was from the original residents of the farm. Emilie, most of all.

She stood there, eyes facing towards the sky and face creased in concentration. Jamie knew that face well, for had seen it many times over the weeks he had been at the farm. It was the face she made when she was trying to translate her words into English. He waited patiently for her, knowing that the girl was not exactly the best at speaking the language.

"Will you" she paused, a look of confusion and uncertainty sweeping over her features, wondering if she was saying it right. She remained like that for the shortest of moments before she smiled again and finished. "Ride with me?"

Jamie laughed happily for the girl, trying to seem light-hearted and cheerful. but in reality he was terrified that someone (someone being Grandpére) had heard. Marie seemed happy to let the girl around and trot as slow as possible, but Emilie never had sat upon a horse in his time there, for Grandfather was so very against it. He grumbled and growled like a rabid dog when Marie suggested that the younger girl ride Joey (Emilie had taken a particular liking to Joey. At first, Jamie felt possessive over the horse, for he had been James' mount. But when he saw how gently she stroked and groomed the bay, and Jamie found he liked watching the two together). Helping the little girl ride would be dangerous.

"Not today, little Miss." He kept the smile on her face, in hopes she would not see his more than slight fear. Jamie had gotten into the habit of calling her that. She always pouted and replied by calling him '_monsieur chic_', though he had no Idea what it meant.

But it seemed this time was an exception to their routine, for instead of pouting, she frowned sadly and began to plead with him. He was shocked by her sudden change in attitude, but still denied her of the assistance in riding.

"I will take her." The sudden, new voice startled Jamie into jumping around. Marie stood before them, in her usual button-up and skirt, this time a light blue shirt and navy plaid skirt. Her hair remained in its signature ponytail, but this time it was a royal blue ribbon that held it in place on her head. She folded her arms, but for once was not stink-eyeing him. In fact, she looked rather pleasant, with her eyes wide and the smallest hint of a smile on her face, her voice reflecting her expression. While Jamie remain looking at her with a mixture of fear and shock, but Emilie began to bounce happily in her usual manner.

"Allez-vous? Allez-vous allez-vous allez-vous?!" She was actually jumping around in what seemed to be complete and utter joy, boots leaving imprints in the dust. Jamie looked from the lively girl to Marie, wondering if this was a usual occurrence. But Maire looked as shocked and uneasy as he felt, eyes wider that a moment ago and a grimace on her face. She reached out and grabbed the girl's shoulders, pushing down hard on her beige sleeved arms in order to still her. Emilie did so, reluctantly, but the big smile remained on her face.

Marie smiled at Emilie's happiness, before grabbing her hand and leading her (Marie walked and Emilie skipped) into the barn. Most of the horses had finished their breakfast, except for Freddy's chestnut mare (whose temperament seemed much like her rider's, Jamie had discovered.). Joey had finished his food, and had his head held high, ears pricked forward and coat glistening in the early morning light from the window. Emilie bound up to him, and he bent his proud head so she could pat his nose gently.

But while she was happy just standing and stroking the bay as she usually did, Marie walked to the back of the barn were the tack was kept. Jamie could hear some of equipment being moved about, before she came stumbling back into view with Joey's gear piled high in her arms and dumped it as carefully as she could in front of the bay's stall. She picked up the rug that was put on his back underneath his saddle and began talking to Emilie in a nurturing tone. Jamie stood back and simply watched as Marie taught the smaller girl how to properly put on his saddle, when Marie's head suddenly snapped in his direction. They stared at each other a moment, before she pointed to Topthorn.

"Ready your horse, Monsieur." She spoke quietly, in a very un-Marie sort of way. It was that that made him swiftly turn to fetch Topthorn's tack, digging around through the various pieces of leather gear like he guessed Marie had to find the right pieces. Marie was confusing him with her happy and soft manner, but he was too afraid to say anything about it. When he came back, Joey's saddle was on and Marie was hunched over slightly, helping Emilie to ease the bit into the big bay's mouth. So he began to tack up his big black mount. He didn't know why she wanted him to 'ready his horse', but he had learnt over his time here not to defy her orders.

The moment Joey was completely ready, reins held firmly in Emilie's hands, Marie hurried off to get her own gear and, strangely enough, a lead rope. She rushed back and quickly readied Maybell, pushing her head away when she tried to bite her while tightening the girth. She then instructed Emilie to do something in French, before unclipping the rope barrier and leading her little horse out. Emilie did the same, just with much more fumbling between rope and reins. Marie had instructed him to tack up his horse, and he had no idea what else to do, so Jamie followed the women.

The courtyard was void of life besides their own and the little fuzzy chickens that had crept from their house behind the barn. Marie clipped the lead rope on Joey's bit before helping Emilie messily onto her horse's saddle. Marie mounted afterwards, lead rope held firmly in hand. Jamie, once again following his companions out of confusion and lack of idea what was actually going on.

They quietly plodded out of the gate, Emilie giggling nervously when Joey tried to eat the long grass growing around the fence posts. Marie was holding Maybell back, much Like Jamie was doing with Topthorn, making her arch her neck and 'prance' slightly. Joey, however, seemed to understand how precious his passenger was, and walked calmly along down the road. They turned into the fields, with blooming flowers of rainbow colours and hoof prints leaving marks in the dew. Emilie was grinning like a madwoman, gripping both the reins and the front of the saddle due to slight nerves.

The two Frenchwomen talked to each other quietly, laughing every few moments because of the hilarious conversation they seemed to be having. Jamie, unable to understand anything but the very occasional, basic word, remained plodding awkwardly besides them. It was after ten minutes of brisk walking that the girls halted. Jamie quickly stopped his own horse, snapping out of the bored haze he was in. Emilie looked up to Marie in confusion, before the older girl leant over and unclipped the lead from Joey's bit. Emilie was suddenly halfway between horror and excitement, not quite sure if she was ready to go on alone. But Marie just smiled and nodded. The little girl's grin came back, before nudging Joey into a brisk walk. Marie looked on, smiling impossibly wider than her sister and calling out a few things in French as the girl walked away quickly.

Jamie and Marie remained stand side by side. As Emilie walked farther away, Marie's smile slowly slid off her face as she looked across at him. It was her change in attitude that worried him greatly. She looked back to Emilie's retreating figure, before she turned her head to him again. She repeated this a few times, also accompanied by the opening and closing of her mouth. He was quite concerned now.

"The rain has made mud. The horses now pull guns, no more zhe Cavalry." It took a second for Jamie to understand what she was talking about, but when he did, stared down at his big horse's neck. The army. She was talking about the army. It was the first time he had heard her utter a word on the subject, but she didn't seem like she had finished yet. "Both sides have dug Zemselves into trenches."

Silence. Jamie couldn't manage to look up from Topthorn's glossy black mane. He felt miserable and angry. The happy mood he had had just moments before deserted him, leaving a sudden empty feeling his stomach. Marie was looking at her horse's neck as well. Although Jamie didn't know it, it was this news she had received on her latest expedition to town that had made her avoid her usual rudeness. When she had returned from her trip, she kept the news to herself and carried on a she normally did, glares and all. But Marie had finally come to the conclusion that he needed to be told earlier that morning, she had started being polite so to prepare him for the news he was about to receive. Emilie was getting smaller and smaller as she continued to swiftly move away. Marie pushed Maybell into a spritely walk in order to stay somewhat close to her sister. Jamie followed again, but remained staring at his horse's smooth hair.

"Not good weather, non?" She said politely, trying to make the whole situation much less… _tense_. Jamie looked up to the sky, seeing she was right. The lovely, clear early morning had changed dramatically, dark clouds floating in from the edges of the sky and swiftly advancing towards the sun. He wanted to laugh at the clique-ness of her question. But he still answered.

"No it is not, Miss." He tried to smile slightly while saying it. Marie was happy that her attempt at conversation had spurred a reaction from him. She had nothing to answer with, and wanted to stay silent. She wasn't very good at making conversation, but had a feeling that if she didn't reply, they would start feeling uncomfortable with each other again. So she answered.

"It iz bad weather for summer, MajorStuart." She said with her heavy accent, looking to him. And, miraculously, she was smiling. It was small, forced and almost non-existent, but it was there none the less.

"I would hope so, Miss." He was smiling properly now, not just a little grin. Jamie didn't mind cold, rainy weather. It had its place, one of which was making his mother's flowers grow. But Jamie himself much preferred warm weather. He hoped it stayed warm here throughout the year, though most likely not. "Are the winters cold here?"

"Ahh, Oui Oui, Major Stuart." She said with the slightest touch of amusement in her voice. It snowed in winter, especially around Christmas. She couldn't until Christmas. It may have only been the middle of the year, but it had been the worst of her life. She couldn't wait for it to end.

"Hmm, I suspected it would. I would hope the chills pass quickly, though." This was the first conversation he had had with Marie, and the glee he got from that was going straight to his tone. He tried to make his voice the least joyful and light as he could, but it was not working. Having someone 'new' to talk to after so many weeks of conversing with the same men (well, conversing was defiantly not the word for them) and the one little girl was making him slightly giddy.

"Oh, non non non!" The amusement was very prominent in her voice now, along with teasing. The faint smile on her face had grown slightly. This whole situation continued to shock him. He had only seen her like this when she was around her family. Perhaps it was Emilie riding that had gotten her this damn cheerful, because Jamie highly doubted it was his doing. "It will stay cold for long time."

"Well then, Miss Gilbert, I will have a very rotten Christmas knowing that." He didn't know where that sentence came from, but it spoke the truth. He would be miserable knowing that the chill would last. Hopefully though, the war would be over by Christmas, as everyone said it would be. Then he may just be able to go home.

"Marie. Call me Marie, Major." She said it so suddenly that it made the smile drop off his face. To say he was shocked was an understatement. Calling her Marie was intimate; it would be something a friend would do. He didn't mind Marie; she could be sharp tonged and quick tempered, but she seemed nice and kind enough. But he didn't really consider her a friend. He suddenly felt awkward and uncomfortable. Marie, for her part, regretted it the moment she had said it. She had been trying too _sanglant_ hard to lighten his mood it had just slipped past her filter and out of her mouth. She sensed and saw how uncomfortable he had become, and scrambled to try fix it as best she could.

"'Miss Gilbert' is what the townspeople call me." As she said this, her face screwed up in a rather comical way. Her nose wrinkled and a scowled formed on her lips. He couldn't help the laugh that left his mouth, though it was short and a tiny bit choky. Then suddenly he felt a huge amount of pressure on him. She was letting him address her by her first name; it would only right to let her do the same for him. But he didn't know if he wanted that. But he felt he needed to, and he promised himself he would be polite to her. He had no choice, really.

"Then you my call me Jamie, Miss Marie." He called her 'Miss Marie' because he didn't want to say her name without some form of politeness. She turned with a hardened stare before responding.

"Oui, _Monsieur _Jamie." There was only a hint of amusement left in her voice, and he resisted the urge the chuckle at her childishness (though he was already become nervous under her gaze). But Marie was, in fact, trying to correct herself back to her usual ways so she would not stupidly slip up like that again. Jamie guessed she would have continued glaring at him, had Emilie not made a squeak sound in the distance, drawing their attention.

Joey was prancing slightly and pulling to rush forward, but Emilie was tugging the reins as hard as she could to stop him, causing him to move backwards and then forwards. Jamie identified what was wrong immediately. In her panic, she was gripping onto her horse's sides tightly with her legs, making him think she wanted him to go run forwards, yet she was pulling the reins to stop him. The big bay was confused. Marie must have seen this too, for she was suddenly hurdling down the hill towards her sister, her little horse's legs moving outrageously fast as they did so.

"Libérer vos jambs, libérer vos jambs!" She shouted at the top of her lungs. She must have instructed her sister to do something, for the little girl released the pressure in her legs and loosed the hold on the reins.

He watched as Marie skidded to a halt beside Emilie and Joey, grabbing the bay's bit and talking quietly to the girl. Marie developed a soft look on her face as she tried to calm her slightly shaking sister, speaking in a rhythmic pace rather than her usual frantic one. Jamie let them chat to each other quietly for a moment, before walking down the small hill towards them.

***00***

**Probably mistakes in hee somewhere, but I have once again read and re-read to the point where am absolutely sick of it, so this is going to have to do.**

**I'm going on Holiday for a whole seven weeks (yay), so no updates in that time (for anyone who cares). (Also: lazy writing is lazy, tra la la la la la.)**

**Thank-you to 'InYourNightmares' for the very welcome constructive criticism. And for reviewing (you were seriously the only person who had talked to me directly the entire Sunday. I need friends. Or at least someone who I can watch Warhorse with). I have had this chapter written out for a while, but I feel it is going against everything you said. Sorry, didn't mean for that to happen.**

**I've been listening to a lot of Florence + the machine songs lately (well, I actually never really stop listening to their songs), especially the acoustic versions. Everyone, listen to 'No light, no light' acoustic version, were Florence holds a note forever and thus supports the fact that she is the most amazing human being ever. Also listen 'Breath of Life' acoustic.**

**Watched ****KatFTWynn on Youtube play 'To the Moon' while writing this. Cried like a small child. I suggest everyone who reads this watch it for the best and loveliest emotional rollercoaster of your life. It won't make sense at first, but the more you watch the better it gets. *SOB*. Also watched some **_**PewDiePie **_**horror games, especially 'Real Life Horror Stories' and 'Year Walk'. I also went and saw 'The Fault in our Stars'. I am now an emotional wreck. The book was bad enough.**

**It annoys me greatly that in the book, Jamie's last name is spelt '****Stewart', but on this site they spell it 'Stuart'. I don't know, just a pet peeve.**

**I'm not sure about French weather, and the internet told me very little. Damn it Internet, I trusted you.**


	6. Invasion

**Chapter 6- Invasion**

_It was weeks later, at the beginning of what would be a frosty autumn, that it happened. It was a shock, pure and simple. No one had expected it. No one._

_It was a total invasion of privacy. They should not have come, they had no right to, but they did. This _was _war, after all. Things such as these were normal in these times._

*00*

The younger soldiers were out riding. They were always out riding, really, avoiding all opportunity to talk to the little French family. The family and the boys did not really get along, they just sort of danced around their mutual dislike of each other, all the while trying to remain polite. One of the main problems the boys had was the fact that they could not speak French. When the little, native family broke out in spurts of French during dinner, they didn't know if they were talking about them or not, and that caused tension. So, to escape the strain, they went out riding often, which only made things worse.

Jamie, on the other hand, always stayed behind at the farm, mostly because he was worried. Being English soldiers, and having gone through what they had, they were fugitives. Although he was doubtful that anyone was looking for them in particular, any German or perhaps even a Frenchman could find them and hand them in. So, the only time Jamie rode was late in the afternoon or in the early morning, accompanying Marie and Emilie as they tried to enhance the smaller girl's riding skills (baby steps, but she was defiantly getting better).

All morning, he had been helping Grandpére make even more jam (he didn't know why they continued to make the sweet condiment, on account that they didn't sell it and it was just collecting in huge amounts on the shelves), waiting until he was free from the mindless making of jam to check on the horses. It was not that he did not like Grandpére. In fact, the old man was, competing closely with Emilie, the person he conversed with the most and happiest with. But he was _sick _of making jar after jar, batch after batch of different flavoured jam.

The moment he was free, he rushed to the open door into the courtyard. It was early afternoon, the trees of the woods by the lane and the one in the courtyard swaying in the breeze, cooling his sweating face. The first thing he saw after that was Emilie.

She was running from Joey to a structure made of stacked crates in two piles a small distance apart, with a thin, straight branch between the two. Tied in the centre of the stick was some sort of dirty banner, made of red and white fabric. Emilie had an apple in her hand, and took a bite out of it before talking to a stationary Joey in French. She made a wild gesture with her hands, flinging them over the structure before returning to her sides. Jamie continued to watch as she ran to the side were a smaller box and stick arrangement stood, before jumping over it in her little trot-like pace. She turned back to Joey smiling, but her face fell when the horse easily walked over the little thing. The young girl took an angry bit out of the apple whilst staring grumpily staring at the big bay.

She ran swiftly past Jamie and into the kitchen, franticly rummaging around before quickly returning to Joey with a small bundle of carrots. She repeated the process, this time becoming mildly annoyed with the horse as he easily trotted around both structures.

Jamie held back a chuckle. She was trying to make Joey Jump. Part of him wanted to call out to her and tell her it was pointless to try make Joey fly over the hurdles in this way, but he didn't want to make her upset. He didn't know why the girl was doing this, but she seemed happy.

He saw Marie standing against the corner of the barn. Her arms were folded over her chest and she held loosely onto the reins of a fully tacked and sweaty Maybell. She was smiling as she looked at her little sister flutter around. He kept as far from the smaller girl as possible on his way over to Marie not wanting to be involved with whatever mischief they were up to (Emilie had run off to the clothes line, dragging Joey with her, and was looking around. Jamie was instantly worried).

He came up beside Marie, quickly walking past Maybell so not to get bit and leant against the wall besides the brunette. Marie turned her head to look at him. She didn't smile at him, but her eyes didn't hold the harshness as they did with the other soldiers. That was one of the good things about Emilie's secret and rewarding morning riding lessons. Maire wasn't as harsh to him as she was to the other Englishmen on the farm. . She spoke kinder to him and held back her anger as best she could. Jamie suspected she treated him better because she didn't want him to inform Grandpére of the lessons.

Marie turned back to looking at the little jumping setup underneath the shade of the large tree.

"She iz trying to get him to jump." She said. The jumps were not as clean as the ones from the training camp back in England (in fact, these were not even proper jumps. These were just everyday items formed into hurdles), but they served their purpose. He felt he should inform her about how Joey acted when faced with a jump.

"He will not do it, Miss Marie." He said, grabbing her attention again. She turned to her head back to him, sudden stern glare demanding an immediate explanation. "He shies away from every jump. Not even Perkins could stop him from running out."

It was true. Not even the strong older man with his harsh training techniques and sturdy temper could convince (scare) Joey into flying over the fences in his path. No matter how small they were.

"I had a feeling." She said. She shuffled forward so that she could lean against the barn wall and fully to face Jamie. "He does not seem like ze jumping type."

"Is Maybell good at jumping?" the question left his mouth suddenly, but he did want to know the answer. Maybell was a small, dainty thing, but that certainly didn't mean she could not jump. He was worried for a moment that Maire would be able pick out an offense in that question. She was particularly good at that.

"Oui." She said with a pleasant tone, face reflecting her voice. This had been the most agreeable she had been for at least three weeks. He didn't know why she seemed to be in such a good mood, but he sure was glad. "She jumps well."

"Topthorn is also a lovely jumper." Jamie replied, unable to keep the fondness out of his voice. He was, very loving towards his big, black horse. He trusted his mount to carry him into battle, after all. Marie nodded, slightest uncharacteristic smile graced her lips.

"He seemz to like it." Marie replied happily. She had seen him take is horse over a few small logs late one afternoon. Jamie continued to wonder what had gotten her so dang happy. She had never been this polite to any of the soldiers, not even him. But Marie stopped talking when she looked back to Emilie, who was walking back to her little jumping course. Her eyebrows furrowed for a while, before widening. The sudden shock on her face caused Jamie to look to the duo and their little jump set up as well.

Emilie had made Joey stand near the jumps, this time with a small, thin step ladder beside her. She was carefully, shakily ascending it, looking nervously at the big animal beside her. Jamie wanted to run up and stop her doing this immediately, but then he saw Grandpére. The old man stood in the courtyard, with his arms crossed and eyes blazing. He spoke something in French, not in an angry way, but more of a bored manner. His words drew Emilie's attention, and the little girl shot back a response. The old man began to answer, walking forward to try and stop her, but then something caught his eye on the road, halting all of his actions at once. Everyone in the courtyard turned their head, wanting to see what had stilled the old man.

It took a couple of moments for Jamie to process what he was seeing, but when he did, he went numb. He saw them, the grey metal trucks with their open trays, packed full of people. He felt his teeth start to tingle. He could not move, just stare. He tried to trick himself, but he knew what he saw. German army trucks.

Grandpére spoke surprisingly softly for the situation, asking the girls to do something in French. The old man than pushed and kicked the jumps over. Marie suddenly grabbed Jamie's arm, abandoning Maybell with her reins on a hook on the corner, and dragged him into the barn. Emilie was running beside him, but stopped to rush Topthorn from his stall. Marie hurried the dazed Jamie up the ladder. He was in a cold, fearful haze, so he just let Marie push him around. She shoved him to the back of the loft, towards the door of the soldier's hiding place. He finally took control of his body and mind again as Marie shoved him through the little door. "Strip ze beds."

The door was slammed shut, leaving the little room in complete darkness. He heard Marie push the pile of hay bales in front of the door, blocking the last of the light that was seeping through the cracks in the door. He stumbled around, pulling the sheets and pillows blindly off of the hay bale beds and carrying them in a heap to the back of the room. He heard the cars and motorcycles pull up in the courtyard, accompanied with the pounding of boots. Jamie's breath was harsh and quick as he pulled the bales of hay towards the corner of the room, creating a small wall that blocked everything behind it from view from the door (well, hopefully). He dumped the bedding behind the bales, before plopping down as well.

Thoughts and questions were rushing through his head so fast, it was causing a headache. He tried to calm his erratic breathing, which was extremely difficult. He wanted to know so many things. Why were there German soldiers here? What were they doing here? Where were the English boys?

_Where were the English boys? _That one thought stopped his brain whirring, along with his frantic breathing. Where were they? He knew they were out riding, but they had been out for a few hours now. Had they seen the Germans and run? He hoped, prayed, that they were safe.

For the next few hours (they were hours, but it felt like days) he sat there, listening to the stomping of boots, the occasional shout and even, once, the sound of shattering glass. He became panicked once, were he heard movement in the hay loft and foreign, clearly German, conversation outside. But he was also worried about the sounds out in the courtyard. He was concerned for the welfare of the little French family that he had grown so fond of.

He remained silent, sitting behind the little wall of hay bales, even after he heard the convoy of trucks leave. He didn't dare move from his spot, not even when his legs started to cramp and side started to itch from the hay. It took at least another hour for the sound of the pile of hay being moved and the door to be opened. Slowly. He carefully stood. The room's light was dim, since hours had passed and the sun was setting, illuminating Marie's outline. He walked forward slowly, noticing the sad expression that she was trying to hide.

He wanted to walk past her and out of the door, but she didn't move. The two stood there, just staring each other. The silence was tense and bitter. They stood there, unmoving. It seemed like at least five minutes before her voice suddenly smashed the silence.

"Ze men will not be coming back." Her voice broke slightly half way through the sentence, but she quickly bought it back in check, harshness back in her tone. The good mod she was in earlier was completely gone, and he couldn't blame her. He was in a rotten mood now too.

She turned quickly and rushed away from the hay loft. Jamie was confused at first. Men? What men? The German soldiers? He thought over her words again, and realised what she was saying. Cold shock rushed through his veins. She meant soldiers all right, just not German ones. . He stared at the hay bale wall just outside of the door.

The boys were not coming back.

*00*  
*_Marie_*

Marie rushed back out of the barn, just in time to see her sister trot a three-pony parade across the courtyard and up behind the house, out of sight of the road. Marie was happy that Emilie was finally listing to Grandfather's instructions, even if it was in these strange and troubling circumstances.

The motorcycles entered the yard first, driving in slowly before stopping in front of the house, just missing Emilie and the horses. The cars, filled with soldiers and civilian men and women holding crates, followed, stopping near the tree. The passengers quickly jumped out, rushing straight to the fields of produce, pushing the clothes on one of the many clothes lines on the farm out of the way to get through. Marie heard her grandfather quickly confront on of the soldiers politely at first, but raised his voice when the young man began to walk away. "Why are you here?"

The young German turned his head as he continued walking. He quickly spoke "Food. For the soldiers at the front. Everyone must give their share." before continuing to the fields.

The sea of people continued, seemingly never-ending. Marie didn't like them here. She didn't like the soldiers here. She didn't want them to take all her little family had, as she saw them doing. She didn't want give _anything _to these people. She walked up to her Grandfather in a slightly timid manner and gave his arm a comforting rub. He didn't look at her, but pat her thin-fingered hand, before they joined the crowd and walked into the fields. They stopped, watching as all produce was plucked from the vines and bushes.

Emilie bounded up to them, little yellow dress bouncing as she did so, and joined her family members in accessing the chaos around them. Grandfather was the first of them to speak. "They are taking everything." He lowered his voice and head as he talked to the younger girl. "Where are the horses?"

Emilie looked up the old man, before faking innocence "What horses?"

Marie supressed the slightest of smirks at her little sister's comment, but the sound of shattering glass from the house grabbed their attention. The three looked at each other, before rushing back towards the house, dodging the people that were in the way. When they entered through the kitchen door, they found the room was filled with soldiers, grabbing all available food and jam.

Marie felt a sudden burst of strong, white anger rush through her, making her feel hot. They should not _be _here! They should not be taking these things. This was her home and her food. It was not theirs to take. They should not be invading. She opened her mouth to shout at the intruders, but was interrupted by a young soldier.

"What is it?" He asked, taking the lid off of what was obviously a soup pot. Idiot. Well, an idiot who spoke good French, she supposed. An idiotic, French speaking, lanky man in a stupid helmet.

"Leave it, if you do not know what it is for." Grandfather took the pot of him and set it down on the table, frustration clear in his tone.

"A pot is a pot. We'll find some use for it." The soldier replied in an annoyed and slightly angry manner, placing the lid back on as he walked to the back shelf. He caught sight of Marie for a moment, giving her a quick once over and smiling at her creepily afterwards. But Marie's signature glare swiftly made him look to the jam as he asked another question in a smug tone. "So, where is the livestock?"

Marie was good under pressure. She was a good lair. She was good at covering up her feelings, a good actress. So when he asked the terrifying question, she made no moves that suggested it scared or intimidated her. Emilie, on the other hand, visibly tensed. Marie carefully entwined their hands, stroking the back of the smaller girls palm with her thumb to relax her. Emilie breathed out of her nose and made her shoulders drop. Good.

"I make jam. We have no animals." Grandpére replied, voice surprisingly calm and even for the usually bad liar. The only exclusion to that, apart from the horses of course, were the chickens. Marie severely hoped that they did not take the hens. They need those badly for eggs for cooking.

"But there is fresh hay in your barn." The young man was even more smug-sounding now. Marie felt the slightest amount of pressure then, but not due to the discovery of the horses. No. She was worried about the hay. The hay. What if they had moved the hay stacks? What if they found the door? What if they found Jamie? Now she was worried, but refused to let it show.

She was struck by a sudden question, one that made her feel cold all over again. Where were the other English soldiers? Were they alright? She, again, refused to let her anxiety show.

"We use it to replace the mattress stuffing's." Emilie said, stopping her Grandfather from telling what would be an awful lie and snapping Marie out of her small trance. But then the soldier walked up to them, sudden intrigued look on his face as he stared at Emilie. Marie felt suddenly protective of her little sister. She didn't like the way he was looking.

"Her Granfather?" he asked, looking to the old man a moment, then to Marie, then back to Emilie.

"Yes." Granpére replied, suddenly sounding worried but trying to cover it with annoyance. He also didn't like him paying attention to Emilie.

"Where are her parents?" Marie didn't like how nosey this man was. He was taking their food, was that not enough?

"They're dead." Emilie replied. She looked down at the ground. Marie squeezed her hand, but had to supress the sudden urge to let out a whimper. It had been a fair time now, but she still felt distraught at the words. The words that were reality. 'They're dead'. Emilie continued quietly. "They died."

The soldier seemed uncomfortable by the answer, walking away from them and towards the back door. "What is that?"

Marie saw Grandfather open his mouth, no doubt to tell one of his dreadful lies, so she spoke first. "What is what?" she said perhaps a bit too harshly for her own good. She forced herself to relax.

"That creaking." Marie turned to the man by the table, only now noticing. While everyone else was bustling around, taking jars off of the selves, this tubby man was sitting in a chair with his feet on the table (Marie was annoyed by the mud and dirt that was falling on the table. It was her job to clean that surface, and he was creating more work for her.). He was eating away at a jar of strawberry jam, eyes wondering lazily around before landing back on Marie.

Marie shrugged, looking away as lazily as the fat man by the table. "It is an old house. It creaks."

Grandfather then herded the two girls out. Emilie went for her room, but Marie hesitated. Grandfather glared at her with the slightest amount of pleading in his eyes, making her realise that he was scared and wanted her to move. But rather than going through to the room that she and Emile share, she returned to the courtyard.

She looked around at the mild chaos, civilians and soldiers taking all of the things they could use. She turned around and around, looking as the grapes were plucked off the vines, the strawberries off of the bushes, vegetables out of the ground. Then, as she turned complete circle for the umpteenth time, she saw something that shocked her.

Horses, being led along the road. Four of them, each being led by a different person. She recognized the coats, markings and colours, the two chestnuts, the bay and the sorrel with the white blaze. She also recognized the tack. English army issued saddles and bridles, purposely scuffed and scratched up to hide its true origins. There was no doubt. These were the English soldier's horses.

She tried to keep her breath calm and even, and she continued turning to seem as though the sight of these horses did not affect her. But she kept an eye on the horses each time she turned, watching as the men leading them informed the young soldier from inside, who was now holding the soup pot (could they not leave that? What use did they have for it?). The young, lanky soldier listened to the man holding the bay as he spoke hurriedly in, from what Marie could detect, German. As Marie continued to turn, she saw the young soldier look around the yard before his eyes landed on her and hardened. The pot was placed down on the ground (much to Marie's annoyance.) and marched up to her. Marie stopped turning, skirt following in the previous movement before settling.

He stopped in front of her, staring a moment. His jaw was clenched and he was glaring (though, not nearly as terrifying as hers). He pointed back to the four horses. "Do you know these horses?"

She went straight into lying mode, relaxing her shoulders and softening her eyes. She furrowed her brows and curled her lip to make herself look confused. She looked at the horses a moment, even going as far as to cock her head to the side. She looked back to the man, even going as far as shake her head slightly. "No, Monsieur."

The soldier glared at her a moment before continuing, staring at her without blinking. "They belonged to some English soldiers." Marie gave a little shrug as she looked at him with confusion as if to say 'So?' He continued, gaze unwavering. "Soldiers dressed as civilians."

Marie acted shocked and slightly afraid, making herself suddenly straighten and eyes wide. After all, she reasoned to herself, if she did not know who these soldiers were, she would be afraid to hear that there were disguised, potentially dangerous soldiers running around. "What?! Civilians? B-but…"

The soldier continued to look at her, but he pulled a fake smile over his bony features. "It is all right, Fräulein, they have been taken care of. "

Marie smiled and nodded nervously, not entirely as a result of her acting. They had been 'taken care of'. Marie had a feeling she knew what that meant. The soldier walked back towards the horses, standing by them and seemingly uninterested in Marie, but she knew he was watching her. So, after pausing for a moment, she continued to slowly spin around, looking for something to get away. After a few spins, she spotted one of the civilian males accidently pulling down one of the patterned sheets off of the line, making it fall into a puddle on the ground. Perfect.

She ran forward, shouting and going on about how it was the best sheets they owned. This drew the direct attention of the lanky soldier with the (their) soup pot. She bundled the sheet up in her arms, before huffing and rushing into the house. She was glad to be out of sight of so many people. She wanted to be alone. She ran to the back, past the soldiers and stairs, and into the room that Emilie and herself shared.

When she opened the door, what she did not expect to see was three horses in the little room. So this was where Emilie had hidden their beloved animals. Marie quickly closed the door before anyone could see the creatures. The poor horses. They were shoved into the room, looking extremely cramped and out of place. She must have bought them in through them through the back door. Grandpére would not be happy. Then again, he was the one who had told Emile to hide them anywhere she could, so this is where she placed them.

Marie dropped the now dirty patterned sheet to the floor and carefully stroked Maybell's shoulder. The little white horse, who was usually energetic and wide awake, had closed her eyes and was half asleep. She jolted at the first touch, and then relaxed. The little horse swang her head lazily around and nuzzled Marie's hand. Marie smiled before snuggling her head in her horse's neck. Marie had always been Maybell's favourite, the little mare always made that clear. As a result, Maybell had always been, as Marie had described when she was younger, the 'bestest pony ever'.

Emilie was watching her sister from the bed, concerned. She had only seen Marie like this, in a state of subtle misery, a handful of times. It was disturbing. Marie looked to her sister and gave a sad smile. She walked over to bed, lifting up the edge of her long, dark blue skirt so she could climb onto the bed. She wrapped her arms around the little girl from behind her, pulling her close for comfort. It took a few hours, but when they heard the sound of the trucks finally leaving, she broke to news to quietly to Emilie.

"The soldier boys have been killed." It took a moment of silence, before he felt Emilie begin to shake. It took a small while for her to make a sound, but the tears had already started streaming down her cheeks. Marie knew that Emilie liked the soldiers (well, mostly anyway). She like having someone outside the family to talk too. Marie also thought she was slightly afraid of the possible consequences if the Germans thought they were responsible.

Marie lay there, letting Emilie cry into her light blue shirt, until she had calmed down. She then left, promising to return as soon as possible, to inform grandfather and the single remaining cavalry soldier of what had happened. They did not eat dinner together that night.

***00***

**Wow, that was long. Almost 5000 words long. Anycow, I have not posted for an extra two weeks to save up some chapters. So, yeah. I'm back. If anyone cares. Hi. **

**Spun the thing around a bit with the perspective change and the little passage at the start (I don't really know why the latter is there, but it is so deal with it).**

**I watched the movie again, and saw that there were trees on the side of the road by the farm and the house was different. Too late to change the later now, but I managed to put the trees in their rightful place.**

**Also, bay is a colour of horse, for those who did not know.**

**When in America, I saw the most disturbing, strange and hilarious TV show in the history of the universe. And I am currently binge watching it. God damn it, 'Honey boo boo' is slowly giving me Brain cancer. No, mind cancer. It's hurting my ideas.**

**I was horse riding on Saturday and one of the girls fell of and ****_broke her leg_****. I don't know. Just… thought you might want to know. Also my lack of friends gives me the need to share everything I do on the internet to feel like I can talk to someone. Do you get that too?**

**Please review. I ache to read something directed at me. You don't have to talk about the story. Heck, I wanna hear about your day. How ****_was_**** your day?**


	7. Porridge

**Chapter 7- Porridge**

_"__Gentlemen"_

_He was back here again, back in his horrid memory. He didn't want to be, but he was. There was something different about it this time, though, something about it not quite like the many last times. There was something off about the rows of uniformed men atop horses that seemed slightly…_un-human_. He couldn't put his finger on what was wrong with them all._

_"__It is an honour to ride beside you." He let the words pour out of his mouth, letting the past take over as he assessed what was before him. Fighting the speech was futile, he had learnt that. He couldn't move his head- he was used to that after the many dreams much like it he had had over the few months, but he could move his eyes. He looked quickly at the men's faces. That's when he noticed the first odd thing. None of the men were blinking. They just stared at Jamie, un-seeing, it seemed. They were also emotionless. The fear and caution and nervousness that he had come to recognize and expect was gone from their eyes. _

_"__Make the __Kaiser rue the day he crossed swords with us." His eyes landed on his good friend James, and that's when he wanted to jump and scream and flee. He had become used to this dream. It did not come every night, but it came often enough for him to be able to deal with it without falling into a sad silence for most of the following morning as he did the few times. But he was not prepared to see this. _

_James' eyes were pitch black and unseeing, staring straight ahead into the forest behind Jamie. His face was pale, whiter than a fresh sheet, with deeply sunken cheeks and dark shadows under his eyes. And there, in the very center of his forehead, was an angry red bullet hole, dried blood surrounding it and a small, thick trickle of red slowly oozing out._

_"__Let every man do himself, his King, his country, and his fallen comrades proud." He quickly looked back over all of the men, now not just noticing their blank eyes and small, but the round blood stains over their torsos, very few on their heads like James'. Their eyes slowly turned inky black, and even went as far as slightly oozing black goo down their rapidly sinking cheeks. At the back of the troop though, he saw a few of the men that didn't have bare eyes and faces, but rather their features were covered with signs of pain and misery. The little round blood stains were not over their hearts or stomachs, but rather on their arms or legs._

_"__Be brave." The despair that he had mostly forgotten was back right away, staining his mood. He didn't want to see this. Not for a single moment. He hated this. He wanted to get out. But he couldn't move and seemed as though he couldn't jolt himself out of his dream as he used to be able to do as a child. He was trapped, watching as the black drained from the men's eyes and slowly slid down their paling faces._

_"__Fear god, honor the king!"_

*00*

Jamie jolted awake. As he opened his eyes, he was greeted by complete blackness and nothing else, it would seem. He didn't want to see any more black. For a moment, he forgot where he was and scrambled about a bit, afraid he was trapped in his dream with his deceased comrades. But then he felt the bits of spikey hay sticking through the sheets beneath him and into his palms. It's funny that, no matter how many sheets he layered over the bales, the little pieces of straw still stuck into his back.

He didn't want to admit that when it came to bedding, he had taken advantage of the boys' … absence, but he had. He had made a little cove in the corner of the room out of the spare bedding hay-bales; in case the German soldiers came back again (he was terrified of that). He had covered the bales he slept on with their sheets, and layered the pillow cases over his straw pillow to make it more comfortable.

He sat there, in the terrifying darkness, breathing hard as he shook. He had been fine for weeks now, but he had been jittery and nervous since the German soldiers had come and taken the boys (he suspected they were dead, in fact he was almost certain of it, but he didn't want to believe it, not yet), it had bought it all back to him. The smallest of comfort he had gotten from knowing at least a small group of his men had survived his horrid mistake was gone, leaving only guilt.

The terrible, gut-wrenching guilt

*00*

When Jamie saw the state of the family's precious farm, he was slightly shocked.

It took a whole week and a half for things to return to almost a shadow of normal. Grandpére was terrified after Marie told him of what she knew about the encounter with the horses and German soldier (to be honest, she had not been told all that much at all, but the little she was given had made it very clear as to what had happened). He was petrified that they could possibly know about the soldiers in their barn attic, that they would come back to seize them all. Jamie was kept locked up in his now lonely hidden room, his meals bought up to him morning and evening by Marie. But the woman barely spoke two words to him, avoiding his gaze at all costs.

Jamie was very concerned. No, actually, scratch that. He was as terrified as Grandpére, just for different reasons. He was worried because he didn't know. He didn't know what state the farm was in. He didn't know what else happened when the soldiers came, other than 'Ze men will not be coming back'. Nor did he know how his Topthorn was. He wanted greatly to know that, for he did not even know if his precious horse was still here.

But now, as he stood in the dusty dirt court yard and looked around, he was surprised. Everything was bare. There was nothing left. The grape vines, which were recently covered in plump purple and green fruits, were now just leaves, the only trace of the berries was the occasional small purple grape squashed or withering on the ground. The few remaining un-pick strawberries that had yet to quite ripen had also stripped clean of fruit. The vegetables were all gone, only shallow indents in the ground proved that they were ever once there.

Marie saw him looking around at the lack of produce, and spoke suddenly "They took everything."

Jamie looked down at her, the woman a head shorter than himself. She wasn't looking at him, just staring out at the bare fields and shrubs with a certain type of sadness in her eyes. The farm had been her life for as long as she could remember. She could remember her mother teaching her and her sister in the winter, when there were fewer chores around. She could remember helping to harvest in the summer, year after year after year. But now the war was taking it from her, just as it had taken her parents and brother.

Jamie felt sorry for her. He didn't want to, for he knew she was much too proud for pity, but he couldn't help it. She looked so sad. And tired. Dark shadows were under her eyes, so large they almost seemed to swallow her face. Her cheeks also looked more hallow than they had the week before in the morning light. She seemed thinner now, or perhaps it was just the way her grey shirt and darker grey skirt hung off her like a sack since it seemed she didn't bother presenting herself properly. Even her brown boots, which once made her feet look small and dainty, now made them look like blocks. She looked older now than she did before. In fact, she reminded Jamie of his mother. By no means old, but frail and sickly. His mother stayed at home, barely leaving, constantly ill and out of thoughts. But, unlike Marie, she was constantly happy. Marie just looked like she had died slightly.

Thinking about his mother, Jamie suddenly felt extremely homesick. He loved the farm, but it wasn't his London home. Heck, he wasn't even in England. He thought of his mother and father and friends, the mostly gloomy weather and the brick in his house that had become dislodged from under the window and the endless, petty problems. He hated many things back in his life, but now he missed it all.

They stared out at the fields in the distance, the pale orange sunlight lighting them in a way that reminded Jamie of a pretty painted picture. Marie was the first to make a sound, huffing out quietly and slumping slightly. She stayed that way, not looking out to the hills, but rather the small patch of dew covered grass near her boots. Her undone, chocolate hair created a curtain over her face, successfully covering it from his view. Jamie felt awful for her.

It was this feeling of pity that made him reach for her hand in a cautious and timid manner. He hated seeing her sad and he wanted to comfort her, but he wasn't sure how she would react to being touched. But he still carefully placed his hand lightly on her thin arm as he used to do for his mother. For a moment the world seemed to stop and it went silent. She was going to snap, Jamie knew. There was no way she going to let this slide.

But then she did something shocking. With her face still hidden behind her chocolate coloured curtain, she reached up and placed her hand over his. It was a light touch, more like she was hovering over his hand but not actually placing it over his. The suddenness of it made him want to jump back and shout. He stared at her hand, pale and dainty with long, slender fingers. He let her leave it there, trying to give this tired woman comfort (even if he actually losing his mind).

As suddenly as their small, emotional episode started, Marie's weakness disappeared. Not only did she swiftly remove her hand from his, but she gently yet sternly shoved Jamie's off. She straightened up, holding her head high again, and eyes became determined once more. She spoke, firm tone back in place. "It iz time for breakfast, Monsieur Jamie."

He could not deny himself the great rush of happiness when he heard that. He had not seen Emilie and Grandpére in a week and a half, and had not eaten dinner with them in the same span of time. Nor could he wait for a nice hot meal. The food he had received during his time locked in the attic was always cold, like he was given it a good hour after the family ate (he felt bad for internally complaining the way he was, but it was true). He followed Marie into the kitchen, trying not to seem too excited and happy. Emilie was already sitting at the table, and she immediately brightening.

"Monsieur Chic!" she half shouted, jumping up and bouncing up to them. She threw her arms around Jamie's waist, another thing that shocked him. She had never hugged him before. She always smiled and laughed around him, but never hugged him. But he liked it.

"Emilie, cesser d'importuner l'homme." The deep, scolding voice belonged to Grandpére, walking carefully down the stairs so that he would not trip. Emilie bounced off of Jamie and instead latched onto her Grandfather. The old man laughed deeply and happily at this, arms wrapping around the little girl and swaying for a moment all while she was giggling.

Suddenly the room seemed loud and crowded, but in the best possible way. The awkward silence that seemed to always be hanging over him was no longer there. Instead, Jamie felt like he belonged. Sure, he couldn't understand a word the old man was saying to the little girl, but they were not talking to him, so he was quite happy to watch. Just the fact they were being overly affectionate in front of him meant something. For they never did that before. They were always more collected and controlled.

Marie seemed to sense this, though. She was standing by the grimy stove, apron tied around her waist and stirring a large pot of porridge (again. Jamie knew she could cook other food, but for breakfast it was always porridge with the occasional side of toasted bread). She tilted her head slightly and looked back at her two family members, then to the soldier that was grinning at them, then back again.

"Monsieur Jamie." She called quietly. He turned to her and she nodded towards the pot on the stove. "Help me, s'il vous plaît." He nodded once and came over slowly. She looked back to her laughing and happy family, uncontrollable smile capturing her features as she called them to eat. "Venez à la table."

Emilie let go of her Grandfather, giving him a kiss on the cheek before skipping over to the table, chatting animatedly to Grandpére. The old man walked more calmly, but laughed the same deep laugh. He pulled the chair out for his granddaughter before sitting down himself. Jamie wanted desperately to understand what was being said by the excited girl, and why the old man was laughing so.

Instead, Marie made him hold the bowls while she scooped the sloppy (but delicious smelling) porridge into bowls, few stray clumps slipping down the outer sides of the dishes. She told him to take them to the table, but a small smile was stuck on her face as she watched her sister talk rapidly to her Grandfather. Jamie placed one of the bowls in front of the raving girl, halting her talking as her eyes widened at the sight of her food ( for having the same food almost every day, she still seemed over the mood when she saw porridge). She grinned up at Jamie, throwing in a quick 'merci' before picking up the spoon next to her.

"Emilie, attendez-nous." It was the slightly scolding voice of Grandpére that halted the small girl's movements, before she slowly placed the spoon back down on the table. Marie tapped Jamie's arm, grabbing his attention again, before handing him a bowl of his own, before nodding her head at one of the empty seats. He sat down as quietly as he could, Emilie already back to her loud babbling, about presumably nothing of much importance.

Marie was the last to sit down, smoothing her skirt over her lap as she did so. Grandpére picked up his spoon and dipped it in his slosh before eating it. The second his mouth was around the spoon, Emilie swiftly plucked up her own eating utensil and scooped her own porridge into her mouth. There was a beautiful moment of silence; Jamie took the calmness of the moment to look at the dust dancing in a beam of sunlight. But, after only a few hurried scoops of food, Emilie was at it again, babbling on and on. Jamie smiled as he quietly ate.

All was well on the farm, he decided.

***00***

**I have once again read and re-read this piece of crap until I was sick of it, and, once more, there is probably still a bucket load of mistakes.**

**Marie and Jamie weren't exactly meant to be like that, but their characters were not behaving with me.**

**I have discovered a new book that I am totally in love with. 'Listen for the Nightingale' by Zenda Vecchio. I am not going to say any more about it.**

**Boring chapter is boring, tra la la la la la.**

**I've just watched 'Actual Cannibal Shia Lebeof' on Youtube. Laughed my ass off.**


	8. Noël

**Chapter 8- ****Noël**

The word 'Noël' began to appear often in the French family's vocabulary, especially little Emilie's. Jamie was too embarrassed by his lack of knowledge of the French language to ask what it meant. It was irrational to feel this way, for he had been staying with them long enough be over all that nervousness about how out of place he seemed. But he wasn't. So after a small while of confusion, he finally gathered his courage to question Marie as to what it meant (it took a lot longer than it should have, really).

At first, the French woman was silent. It appeared that she had no idea what the English word for 'Noël' was. In fact, all she did was looked at him with a confused face, eyebrows furrowed and one slightly raised as she stared at him, and asked with a voice that reflected the look on her face "It iz not called 'Noël' in England?". Jamie was slightly dumbstruck (after all, Marie seemed to know all, when it came to language), only just managing to stupidly shake his head. This resulted in Marie asking Grandpére (to Jamie's continued embarrassment). Luckily, Grandpére knew the translation.

Christmas. 'Noël' meant Christmas. And Christmas was coming. That explained Emilie's utter excitement every time the word popped up in conversation.

It had been quite some times since the German soldiers had shown up on the farm, a small number of months in fact. It was not yet Winter, but according to Marie the snowy season was only a month off. It was getting much colder now, remaining dark and frosty until later in the mornings. It had yet to snow, but it defiantly seemed cold enough. He had been given warmer clothes, fitting him almost perfectly (It was odd though, the clothes were old and obviously second hand, and not tailored by Marie. Which led him to wonder: Who else wore these clothes?). The little French family had started thicker and longer clothes too, Marie's skirts had become denser, made of wool, and they were all wearing jackets and shawls. The horses had earned extra layers as well. Not only had their coats grown longer to accommodate to the chill, but they had also received thick fabric blankets to wear whilst in their stalls (though only Maybell's fit her properly, while the other ones were too small on the larger horses and were slightly more tattered).

There were fewer chores and jobs to do around the property, leaving Jamie enough time to figure out something very important. Christmas gifts. They were not going to be large, but the three family members deserved at least a small something for their efforts of taking care of him the way they had.

Yes. This needed a lot of time and attention.

*00*

She was staring at him. Straight at him, with no sort of restraint, it seemed. Jamie could see her out of the very corner of his eye, yet he continued to stir the feed mix for the horses. But he was self-conscious now, stirring and pouring in such a way he hoped she would find no fault in (she found a fault in everything if she put her mind to it). She found a fault, of course, but not with the feed.

"Your hair iz ridiculous ." Her sudden, strongly accented voice popped the bubble of comfortable silence that had surrounded them. '_Ridiculous_'. He was immediately offended by her statement. He knew his hair had grown out, now tickling the base of neck and shoulders, as had his moustache. A short beard had come to join his moustache across his cheeks his chin (his facial hair never did grow very fast. It caused great grief for him when he decided to grow a moustache, for it produced a space of time when it looked stupidly short. He was thankful for it now though, for it kept his beard from getting too long.).

"It is not 'ridiculous', Miss Marie." He didn't mean for it to come out as defensive, slightly offensive and… high as it did. He calmed his voice down at the end of his sentence, and adding a polite address to the end as to not insult her. He continued stirring the feed, not looking at her, and began to distribute the food to the eager horses. Marie huffed loudly, but said nothing (Jamie was thankful for that).

It was when they returned to the warm farm house that Marie did something rather odd. She pulled out a chair from the table and set it in the middle of the floor space, fairly close to the lovely, hot fire.

"Sit down, Monsieur Jamie." She was gesturing to the chair, staring intently at him with her hazel eyes, leaving no room for argument. Jamie did not want to sit down on the chair, not at all, but he found himself walking over and doing so. He was nervous as to what was going on. She had not asked him to do this any time before. Jamie stared into the flames, but he was focusing on the sounds around him. He heard Marie moving around the room, dragging a chair over, cluttering around the sink and the sound of the water rushing from the pump, and even clambering up the stairs. She returned downstairs, halting just behind him. A few things were placed down on what Jamie thought was the chair, and then there was a pause.

The feeling of a wet comb running through his hair and lightly brushing his scalp made him jump. A hand landed hard on his shoulder, pulling him back onto the chair. He felt the comb through his hair again, then a quiet _snip snip snip_. She was cutting his hair.

What Jamie didn't see was the little set up Marie had. It seemed as though she had done this before, and she had. She did this for her family every once and a while. A chair was beside her, and atop it was a small bowl of clean water and the comb was now next to it. Her thin, dainty fabric scissors, the ones she used to make the clothes and pillows, cut cleanly through the man's hair as it did with cloth.

She quickly picked up the comb and stared to pull his hair outwards slightly. When Jamie hissed slightly in pain, she apologized and pulled the hair out more delicately, before she snipped it off.

"We should have done zis earlier. It would have been easier." She said quietly, not taking her eyes off his hair. His only response was a tired hum, not willing to break the lovely, easy silence they had created. She cropped his long hair back closer to his scalp, remembering the length of his hair when she first met him. She snipped and snipped at his hair, moving slowly around the front of his head. His long strands of now loose hair fell onto his clothes and to the ground around the chair.

Jamie noticed then how close she was. He could feel her warm breath slowly and evenly hitting his skin. She didn't look at his face, for she was distracted by his hair, but he stared. She had a look of extreme concentration on her face, which he dare say looked slightly amusing. He felt her breath again and could not help but feel uncomfortable.

With a final cut, she threw the free hairs into the fire, saving the extra clean-up.

"Terminé" she said, and opened her mouth to say something else, but she was suddenly distracted by how long his beard had gotten. With his hair now shorter and neatly trimmed, it looked even more scraggly and overgrown. She stared at his chin, making him want to raise his hand and hide his face. She quickly turned and left, bounding quickly up the stairs once more. She returned, this time with a wooden box in her hands. She stopped in front of Jamie, staring at the box in her hands a moment, before carefully holding it out for him to take. He did so reluctantly, before carefully opening the lid.

He was mildly shocked at what he saw inside. It was an old straight razor, with a lovely smooth, wooden handle, not like the new 'Ever-Ready's that had been sweeping through London when he left. There was also a small, glossy brown pot in the box as well, no doubt a pot of shaving cream, and a small bristle brush with a handle that matched the razor's.

"It waz a wedding prezent for my Pére" she said quietly, staring into the box. She closed her eyes a moment to correct herself "Father. He only uzed it on special occasions."

Jamie didn't want to use it anymore. In fact, he didn't even want to touch the glossy box. It was much too special now, and there was sad look on Marie's thin face. But she seemed to sense how he had become uncomfortable, and she placed a smile on her face, pointing to her upper lip. "I suggest losing ze moustache."

He was going to answer, but Marie threw he head back and hollered. "EMILIE! LE TEMPS D'UNE COUPE DE CHEVEUX".

There was a groan from somewhere in the house, and the sound of shuffling feet, Jamie took this as his cue to leave.

And he kept the moustache, just to spite her.

*00*

In the end, Jamie was unable to give any member of the small family gifts for Christmas, nothing except the most heart-felt of 'thank-you's to them. Emilie responded with giving him a big hug.

A hug, he realised on his frozen shuffle back to the barn, felt a bit off. This was confirmed the next morning.

*00*

He knew something was wrong the instant he stepped into the kitchen.

A small fire was burning in the hearth, making the room much warmer and lighter inside the house then outside in the courtyard. Outside, dark clouds blotted out the sun, making it grey and damp as the crisp snow fell. It may have been warm and dry in the farmhouse, but it did not _feel _that way.

The family was not sitting at the table, eagerly waiting for breakfast to be served, or wondering around the kitchen doing the odd small chore. There was none of that this morning. Instead, the chairs were empty, still pushed in under the table. There were no spoons on the table, waiting for the addition of bowl full of hot, delicious slop. None of the family members were bustling around, but Marie was in there.

She was standing over the stove, moving in the most mechanical way he had ever seen her. Her long brown skirt hung limply off of her, and had a dark tartan blanket draped over it, tied around her waist. Her old, greying white shirt was covered in a tattered black shawl. She wore fingerless gloves and her hair in the usual high ponytail, but it seemed scruffier and messier than usual.

She rhythmically stirred the contents within the pot, round and round and round. Her eyes were unfocused, and puffy and red as though she had been crying; only making her skin seem paler. She sniffed, and Jamie's suspicion and worry rose is his chest. Jamie moved a step closer to peek at the contents of the pot, confirming his fears. Soup, not porridge. Something was defiantly off.

He watched as she moved the pot off the hot plate and onto a cold one. Her hands shook as she reached for a bowl on the bench near her. It was this, the slight tremble, which made Jamie walk quietly over to her and take the bowl and ladle out of her thin hands.. He nodded to the table and watched her from the corner of his eye as she slowly pulled out a chair and slowly sat down, commencing to stare at her knees, face blank.

Jamie poured the soup, careful not to spill a single drop over the side, before slowly walking it over to Marie. But when he placed it down in front of her, she put up her hand slightly to stop him.

"It iz not for me." She said quietly, the tremble that was in her hands now in her voice. Jamie paused, not quite sure what to do with the soup now and who it was for. Marie moved her eyes to look at him, but kept her head bowed. It looked like she was glaring at him, except her eyes were lacking the usual malice that her dirty looks had. When she saw how confused Jamie was, she closed her eyes tight and let out a shaky breath. She was almost whispering as she answered, voice still shaky. "Emilie iz ill."

Jamie quickly placed the bowl down on the table before it fell from his hand. '_Emilie iz ill_'. It may have been just a cold, but Marie seemed much too worried for it to be that minor. Emilie, the happy bouncy little girl was sick. Marie slowly stood, taking the bowl and plodding heavily down the hall.

It was the thought of his sickly mother that made him do what he did next. Two more bowls were retrieved from one of many shelves on the wall, and the watery, but delicious smelling pot contents were poured into them.

Marie slowly walked back down the small hallway. Emilie had gotten sick many times before, but each high fever still scared Marie senseless. As she looked to the kitchen table, she realised how good it was to have Jamie there. He had place a bowl of soup for her on the table, and he was waiting patiently for her to return so he could eat his own. She sat heavily, unable to bring herself to lift the spoon. That was until Jamie's rough hand gently took her own and gave it a light squeeze.

Their meal was small and, for Marie at least, comforting.

***00***

**Yeah, the last part of that chapter was lazy writing.( lazy writing is lazy, tra la la la la la.) Posting this before I regret it. Anycow, I'm lonely so review, please. **


	9. Run

**Chapter 9- Run**

Emilie's illness passed like the winter weather, slowly but surely. The whole ordeal had shaken Marie greatly, and she catered to her sister's every need and fretted over a simple sniff. Jamie could not blame her, he supposed. She was afraid that she would lose her beloved baby sister.

Spring came, and with it bought an abundance of chores and a new haircut (Marie made it clear that it would not be allowed to get to the state it was in before). It was later on in the season that Jamie found out something interesting. Soon, it would be Emilie's birthday.

*00*

Jamie refused to fail Emilie this time, and he didn't. With the huge help of Marie, who assisted him greatly by digging around in the in the family's junk room of the barn, they turned up a lovely (if not slightly tattered, but it polished up nicely) dark wood comb with a strip of lovely, floral carved tortoise shell.

Marie and Jamie stood beside Grandpére, who was sitting down on the stairs with a distant look on his face. On the table behind them was a huge… _something _hidden under a large, old square of pattered cloth on the table. Grandpére, even though the two younger adults present had asked, refused to say what was hidden underneath. Marie and Jamie both knew each other's gifts, both of which were wrapped up in pieces of pretty fabric.

Emilie slowly walked down the little hallway from the back of the house, face lightly up when she saw the people standing in the kitchen. She smiled as she received Jamie's comb, and absolutely beamed at the lovely, pale blue dress Marie had given her. But, although they didn't know it yet, it was the present from Grandpére that stole the show.

After many 'thank-you's from Emilie, she went to her Grandfather to give him a hug. But she halted when she saw he huge clump under the blanket. She moved to the table, staring at the cloth but not lifting it.

She spoke a few words quietly in French to her Grandfather, to which he replied just as quietly. The little (not so little now. She was thirteen today, after all.) girl didn't look up from the clump on the table as she had a small conversation with her grandfather. Grandpére began chuckling as Emilie walked over, holding out her hand for the old man to take. Her Grandfather did take it, and Emilie crouched down in front of her Grandfather. She spoke softly but evenly, saying something that made Grandpére laugh and pull the little girl in for a hug.

Jamie felt awkward staring at the family moment, so instead he looked to Marie. She was smiling in her true, joyful way, looking at her family with the upmost affection. Her eyes were twinkling with happiness, and her arms were crossed loosely over her chest. Jamie did not look away, for she had yet to notice him and he still did not wish to intrude. Rather than look at little Emilie and her Grandfather, he looked at the little quirky smile Marie's mouth created, and the way the sun shone on her hair. He thought perhaps he should look out the window, but she had yet to notice him. So, shamefully, he continued to stare.

He only snapped out of his trance when Marie began to slowly turn, gaze following her sister's moving form to the kitchen table (Grandpére had left the room at some point, it seemed). Jamie was looking the little girl now too, watching as she carefully peaked under the faded blanket. She quickly dropped it back down again though, whirling around to look at her older sister in disbelief.

Marie's happy smile left her face in an instant as she saw her sister's wide eyes, staring straight at her. Marie spoke, worry laced her slightly louder than usual voice. "Qu'Est-ce que c'est? Ce qui est faux?"

Emilie looked to the table again, this time grabbing the blanket and yanking it off in one fluent movement with a great _whoosh_.

Underneath the patterned piece of cloth was a saddle and bridle. It was black, army issued tack, Joey's judging by the size. Except the scuffs and scratches that had been purposefully dug in with twigs, stones and even a hoof-pick were now less prominent, size seemingly reduced with the help of, presumably, leather polish.

And, tied neatly upon the stirrup leather, was a pink ribbon knotted into a bow and a red and white banner.

*00*

The sky was a beautiful vibrant blue, with fluffy white clouds dancing their way around whenever a small gust of wind came along. Emilie was smiling brighter than the sun, dressed up in her cute, long sleeved white dress, dotted with pretty little blue flowers. She looked alive.

Grandpére was smiling as well (much smaller and slightly fearful), along with Marie. The chocolate haired woman was standing a small distance from her little sister. She was holding loosely onto Maybell's reins, as Jamie was doing with Topthorn. Emilie had told them she wanted them to ride with her with her, once she got warmed up, and when Grandpére wasn't listening told them that she had missed riding with them.

Emilie's morning lessons had ended when the German soldiers had come to the farm. Grandpére had become hung up with watching his granddaughters closely, making sure that if the soldiers did come back, they would not be caught with the horses (they had lied about the creatures existence after all, so it would be dangerous if they found them). There was also the fact that the English boys had 'left', leaving even more time to watch his grandchildren (he was always keeping an eye on the boys, afraid they were going to steal or destroy something). There was no way for Emilie to get in a secret morning ride nowadays.

But now, as the morning sun shone on the little girl's face, Emilie didn't need to keep this a secret. She was going to ride Joey.

Grandpére helped by pushing Emilie (less than gracefully) up onto the big bay's back, the little girl still grinning. But the old man stayed close to her, hand placed on the saddle near her knee and looked up at her anxiously. He spoke in French, instructions by the sound of it, hesitation lacing every syllable that left his mouth. He laughed nervously, before speaking her name and becoming very serious, shaking his finger up at her. The little girl interrupted at the end of his little speech, before pulling the red and white banner (it had writing on it, but Jamie could not quite make out what exactly it said) from her hair dramatically tossing it down to her grandfather and speaking in a posh tone.

Marie laughed beside Jamie, making him desperately wish to know what she had said. He picked up the word 'moi'. Meaning 'my', but the rest of the sentence was a confusing mess of un-paced, jumbled up words. Emilie readied herself, gathering up the reins and straightening her back.

It was Maybell, unbelievably, that stopped Emilie from continuing. The little horse snorted once, drawing the attention of her rider and Jamie. She snorted again and threw her head up, surprising Marie and pulling the reins out of the woman's loose, unsuspecting hold. The white horse danced with high steps away from the small group, shaking her head and snorting the whole time. Marie stepped toward Maybell, a certain determined look on her face, but turned to Topthorn when the mighty horse began to throw his head and fuss about as well. Jamie held tight to him as he began pacing backwards.

Joey began to fidget as well, causing Grandpére to hurry Emilie off his back and grab at the bay's bit. It suddenly seemed very loud there, with the horses pacing, snorting and fussing, causing their tack to jingle. Jamie looked from horse to horse, trying to keep an eye on them all at once. But then he noticed that Marie was no longer there, trying to grab at her horse. This caused him to look around further, searching for the chocolate haired woman. He spotted her, walking carefully up the hill. She got close to the top, presumably enough to see what was on the other side, for suddenly running back towards them. She had gathered her dark skirt in her hands, revealing her black tights and brown boots as she bolted down the hill. The unmistakable look of fear was clear on her face and now wide eyes. This sparked fear in Jamie as well, causing his hand to go slack and let go of his hold on Topthorn.

She ran past her family and straight to Jamie. She didn't stop running, instead grabbing his hand as she went. His body jolted, his arm following Marie along with his torso, leaving his head and legs behind, in a way, as he stumbled after the frantic woman. She sprinted straight to Topthorn, causing the great horse to spook for a moment. Marie grabbed his bit with her free hand, and pushed Jamie to the horse's side.

"Get on." She said sternly but franticly with her accent shining through strongly. "Pour l'amour de Dieu, get on."

Jamie did as he was instructed, the franticness from Marie seemed to be seeping off of her and sticking to him, making his movements hurried and shaky. He could now hear his heart beating in his ears, fast yet smooth like a drum beat; making it louder than it had been a moment before.

Marie hurried around the small area of the field, grabbing Joey's reins and shoving them at Jamie. He barely managed to grab them before Maire Marie was gone again, this time to her own horse. "Marie." He said firmly, trying to grab her attention. But it didn't work. She was too busy looping Maybell's reins between the throat lash and cheek strap of her bridle, as he had seen her done once before, almost one year ago now. "Marie!"

It worked this time. Maire spun swiftly around, skirt flying out behind her. Her eyes were wide and fearful, and breathing heavily. He had her attention, he planned on holding it. "What is going on?"

She remained breathing heavily for a moment. She finally spoke, words pouring from her mouth without any breath in between and accent stronger. "The Germans are back. Run! Whistle to call Maybell."

Then Marie was gone. Again. This time she grabbed her family's hands, dragging them up the hill and back towards the farm. Jamie was no longer paying attention to her and her actions, instead thinking things over quickly. He knew this would happen. Grandpére had told them he had been informed that they would be back for more food, but it was still a shock now that they were here.

He pushed those thoughts from his mind, though. He had other things to focus on. He needed to escape.

He needed to get to the woods. That much he knew. The trees would conceal him. The closest woods were across the road. He was lucky at the current; he was just out of sight of the road, hidden behind the hill, but cutting across the road would put him in the view of the farm. That was not an option.

There was also the forest he came from when Marie rescued him and the other English soldiers (that seemed like such a long time ago now. He was forgetting what the boys looked like). But to do that, he would have to find a way around the farm to get there. Another forest was behind him, but that was across the pond.

There was one more grove of trees off to his right. It was a small bit a way, but he should be kept him hidden from the view of the farm by the hill.

He pushed Topthorn into a brisk walk, but only for a moment to whistle quietly. As Marie had promised, Maybell snapped out of her pacing and snorting to trot after him. With this in mind, Jamie was off. He spared no mercy for his poor horse's sides, kicking them hard to push him into a gallop. Joey was pulled along with them, whilst Maybell followed quickly behind, little legs blazing.

Jamie loosened his hold on Topthorn's reins, letting them slip through his hands slightly and leaning over his horse's neck, encouraging his horse to stretch out and move faster. All Jamie heard was the thundering of horse's hooves, thumping loudly against the grass beneath them.

As he entered the woods, Jamie wanted to breathe a great sigh of relief. But he knew he was not safe yet. So he kept the horses running. On and on and on. He weaved them through the trees, never slowing. The sound of the hooves on the ground was now accompanied by the horse's strangled gasps.

He didn't know how long they ran, but he finally pulled the horses up after he felt he had gone on for long enough (They were far enough from the farm now, surely). Maybell slowed down and halted beside them as well. The three horses were gasping for breath, sounding like a couple of run-down trucks. Their heads hung low and white sweat covered their coat, while bubbly froth dripped out of their mouths. Jamie was tired as well, collapsing forward onto Topthorn's neck and gasping along with the large creatures.

He slowly dismounted, legs shaking. The horses were tied securely to a tree and their girths loosened. Maybell didn't even bother to snap at him as her eyes began to close.

Looking around finally, he noticed he had come to a stop in a small clearing, about half the size of the farm's courtyard. Sunlight streamed in through the gap in the bright green tree canopy, illuminating the long green grass and little thistles with golden light.

The grass was soft, he found out as he collapsed on the ground. Jamie though about getting to the other side of the clearing to rest under the trees, but he couldn't manage to stand. He muscles ached and the sun felt nice and warm shinning on his skin. Very nice. He fell from his knees straight onto his side, closing his eyes and basking in the rays.

When he awoke, the shade from a nearby tree had covered him. He looked around. It was not yet dark, but the sun was no longer high up in the sky. The grass, still soft and smooth, now felt cool as well. The horses were stilled dosing, tied firmly to the tree where he had left them.

He stood with great effort, muscles burning in protest of such movement. He walked to the large creatures and began to tighten their girths again. Joey and Topthorn, usually so well behaved, woke suddenly and pinned their ears right back and stomped their feet. Maybell was a huge problem, trying to kick Jamie as he tightened the leather strap around her barrel and almost bitting him as he rewound the reins back through her bridle. An angry, harsh growl from Jamie straighten her head back front, but her eyes remained black and ears press so had against her skull they seemed non-existent.

Mounting Topthorn again was a painful effort, but he just managed to do so. He whistled for the little white horse to follow, but they were not in a hurry. They plodded slowly back the way they had come. The German soldiers surely would have left by now.

They didn't go faster than trot on their trek back, all floppy and exhausted. It was rapidly getting dark, but Jamie found he didn't care. He just wanted to sleep again.

It was well into night when he trudged up to the farm, halting lazily in the courtyard. He was thankfully right in presuming that the German soldiers had left the residence. There was no sign of them. Pale yellow light streamed out of the windows of the house, lightly illuminating some of the sheets on the line. He whistled, softly with his dry lips and throat, to draw the attention from the family he hoped was inside.

Jamie doubted he had ever felt as happy as when the door open, a rectangle of light appearing on the dirt. He heard footsteps stomping on the ground as someone ran to him, but Jamie was looking at his saddle, too tired to raise his head.

A pale, thin fingered hand tenderly rested on his own. It was lovely and warm, caressing his stiff fingers. He slowly, lazily looked up, gaze meeting Marie's hazel eyes. She was smiling softly up at him, eyes full of kindness that was rare from her. She took his hand, and carefully helped him off. That went well, up until the point where he had to take his second foot out of the stirrup and slide off of Topthorn, at which he fell straight onto his ass.

Once again, Marie helped him, placing one of her delicate hands under his armpit and other on his elbow. He stood shakily, aching and wanting to collapse onto the ground. The woman beside him gently took his hand once more, drawing Jamie's attention from his pain to her again. She spoke quietly to him then, he voice filled with foreign admiration. "Thank you, courageux homme."

Marie let go of him, once she was sure he was stable and leaning against the courtyard tree, and walked to her little horse.

Maybell was throwing her head about in an exaggerated manner, somehow still wide awake and agonizing over a strip of her reins that was brushing over her eye. Marie gently grabbed at Maybell's bit (which was sticky from her mouth froth), halting the horse's actions, though the white in her eyes were still showing. Marie then did something that Jamie had seen her do only every once in a very long while.

Marie rested her forehead against her horse's, and began to slowly stroke up the backside of her ears. Maybell calmed quickly, allowing Marie to remove the irritating reins from around her eye.

Jamie felt a hand firmly but not tightly on his arm. Grandpére gave his arm a small pat, before leading him to the kitchen, letting Emilie and Marie care for the exhausted horses.

***00***

**I wanted to make Jamie's presence at the farm have some sort of a benefit, and this seemed like a good idea. Don't worry, this story ain't gonna be all happy endings.**

**Once again read to the pint of sickening, yet errors are still assured.**

**Watching crime documentaries on YouTube is my new thing. FBI Criminal pursuit, mostly. **

**I made the huge mistake of watching paranormal activity last night. I had to sleep with the lights on. Why do I do this to myself?**


	10. Annoyance

**Chapter 10- Annoyance**

It was warm that day, warmer than it had been the entire year. The breeze shook the tree leaves and the clothes on the line. The sun had shone brightly on everything earlier that day, but now it was calming into its late afternoon shine. But all was not calm at the moment.

There had been another tense week of hiding out in the dark room of the loft. The night he returned from his rough ride, he wasn't even allowed to remain sleeping when he dozed off at the kitchen table. Jamie understood this, of course. It would have been dangerous if we were found there, in the off chance the German soldiers returned. But, admittedly, there had been a moment of extreme bitterness towards Grandpére when Jamie had been shaken awake by the old man.

But that week had ended, and he was freed into the sun once again.

All signs that the bushes and vines ever held any sort of fruit or the ground any vegetables were non-existent. The farm had, once again, been striped clean of any produce. The jam shelves were once more empty, though there seemed to be new jars already taking their places.

Emilie had fit her first proper ride in, and then would not stop. Every chance she could, she was atop Joey in his newly polished saddle. It was a great effort to get Emilie to do anything else than care for the horses. A small, sad frown would grace her lips whenever she was denied a ride. And today was one of those days, for it was simply too hot for all the horses to be cantering around and jumping logs.

It was these days that the horses were left to graze peacefully, which was a bit more effort than usual grazing. This was because, unlike everywhere else Jamie had ever set horses out to graze, this farm had no fenced-in fields. There was a small, grey stone wall that ran along the side of the road, but no more than that. So instead of being let free to eat the now lush green grass, Joey and Topthorn were hooked up in halters with long ropes attached, and then tied to trees in the meadow. Maybell, however, was just dressed up in a halter of her own and simply let out of the barn. This didn't surprise Jamie at all, for the little horse was obedient.

That had been in the morning, and they had been left there the entire day while the chores were completed and a brief, harmless hay fight with Emilie (which was great fun, in Jamie's opinion). At the end of the day, Joey and Topthorn were untied from their trees (the grass in a circle around the trees had been eaten down to the dirt) and taken back to their stalls.

But then the calmness that had weaved its way around the day's activities drained quickly at that moment. It had been Maybell (Jamie found it fitting) that shattered the peace. Her obedience slipped as her Mistress came to fetch her to take back to the barn.

Marie had whistled for Maybell to come, but the little horse did not move her feet. She raised her head from the ground to look at her mistress, large dark eyes staring for a moment, before her pale head dropped down again. Her jaw stared to move again, showing both Jamie and Marie that she was not coming over to them.

And then the war began. Jamie glanced to Marie, noticing the woman's jaw set in determination. The brunette marched towards the little horse. Jamie followed closely behind with a much less brave stride than the woman before him. He was not going to lie to himself; Maybell terrified him. The little horse looked like the perfect little girl's pony from a far, with her pretty pale coat, wide eyes, pricked ears and pink nostrils. But if one got too close, the eyes grew viciously dark, the ears pressed back against her skull and the nostrils flared and turned red. She looked like a small, white demotic horse, in short.

But Marie continued to march towards the little beast, starting to hunch slightly in preparation to grab at Maybell's halter as she fed. Except, as the woman bent to grab the cheek strap of Maybell's halter, the little horse threw her head up in a flurry of flying mane strands and loud snorts. Her head slammed straight into Marie's gut, pushing the woman over with a grunt from both parties. Maybell trotted off towards the tree line, but Jamie was not paying attention to the little, trouble making horse. Instead, he was paying attention to Marie, who was now on her side on the ground and clutching her stomach where Maybell had struck her.

Jamie wasn't sure what to do to comfort her. Jamie had never dealt with such an attack from a horse, nor had he ever needed to comfort a pained Marie. So he treated her like he would any other person. So he crouched down beside her, placing a hand gently on her shoulder and gave it a gentle pat. A low groan was escaping Marie's mouth in an endless stream that didn't seem like it was going to end anytime soon. Then it ended with a grumble in hurried French words (swears, presumably).

"Are you alright, Miss Marie?" Jamie spoke quietly to her and placed his hand on her elbow to help her to sit up. Marie gasped for breath a moment, bowing her head with her arms still around her stomach, and he could see her grimace through her curtain of hair. Then she raised her head slightly, just enough for her vicious glare directed at Maybell to be seen by Jamie. She spoke, though it sounded much like a growl. "Je vais tuer ce maudit cheval."

Jamie had been here long enough to begin to grasp the basics of the French language. He knew the 'Cheval' was the word for horse, and maybe 'Je vais' meant something like 'I go', but the rest of the sentence was lost on him. He doubted what she said was all that nice, though.

Marie suddenly grabbed onto Jamie's arm and pulled herself up with a big 'humph', almost dragging Jamie down to the ground.

She was off again, brown skirt streaming out behind her. She stomped her way towards Maybell, perhaps thinking that the little white horse would be frightened into submission. But Maybell saw her coming and was most defiantly not afraid. She simply picked her head up and cantered off.

She stopped by Jamie, in fact. He carefully walked forward, treading much more calmly than Marie had, think perhaps she had just been spooked. The horse's head had just dropped to graze once more when he reached for her nose band. Just as he was about to grasp the leather, Maybell snapped her head to the side. Her eyes wide and wild, and her teeth made a loud _click _as Jamie just managed to swipe his hand to avoid a nip.

Then it seemed to be a game to the horse. A dance, perhaps. For the little horse darted around, dodging all attempts to be captured and dragged back to her stall in the barn. Marie and Jamie played along, chasing after the little mare around the open meadow behind the hill. But nothing worked. Maybell was quick on her small hooves, jumping around to avoid either of the reaching pairs of hands.

Maybell began to graze once more, chewing happily on the long grass that was there. Jamie was bent over, hands on his knees and gasping for breath. This was tiring, yet Maybell did not show any signs of coming to either of them. Jamie looked up, and locked eyes with Marie across the horse's back. She stared at him a moment before her eyes darted to Maybell than back to him. Jamie understood.

They both crept forward. Maybell kept munching away, not seeming to notice them (she never looked like she noticed them until they were in biting distance). Both Jamie and Marie bent down right near the ground now, and they looked at each other again through the space behind the little horse's neck. Marie nodded once, and they both leaped forward.

Maybell's jumped back and threw her head up, ears back and eyes wide. She pranced once with high steps before spinning around quickly and cantered off towards the tree line once more. Jamie and Marie rammed straight into each other, heads banging together. They both cried out and began clutching their foreheads.

Onlookers would have found the pair of them ridiculous. Marie and Jamie were both on their knees in a grassy field, clutching their heads and wincing. They both remained there, groaning, for quite some time.

Jamie looked at Marie. Her mouth was twisted in pain and her eyes were screwed tightly shut. When Jamie spotted the blotch on her forehead, he could not help but laugh. Marie's eye snapped open, already glaring at him, but it was half hearted and covered in pain. She was still tenderly rubbing her forehead. Jamie swallowed the last of his chuckles and explained himself.

"There is a large red mark on your head, Marie." And there was. There was a large, red blotch was smack bam in the middle of her forehead. Marie stopped glaring at him then and stared at him with a slack face. Then, after a moment, her eyebrows furrowed in confusion.

"Do I?" She asked. She began to feel around on her head. Then she giggled. And giggled a bit more. She was feeling a sudden, slightly painful head rush. It made her giggle some more. She moved her hand from her head and pointed to Jamie's own forehead. She spoke, voice uncharacteristically bubbly and light. "You 'ave one too!"

He was laughing again now, joining Marie's girly giggles. "Yours is quite large."

"Oh?" Her voice was still light.

"Yes, Marie." He reached a hand out and traced the mark. "This large."

"Yourz iz large too." She also reached an arm out and traced the mark on Jamie's own forehead.

This is when they came back to themselves. Marie's head rush turned into a light thumping against her abused head. The stopped laughing and paused suddenly. They were there, on their knees in a meadow, softly touching each other's faces. They just looked at each other. Jamie's finger was still tracing the quickly fading mark on her head. They didn't move apart. Jamie could not help but noticing how smooth and warm Marie's fingertip felt against his forehead.

It was Maybell that finally broke them apart. Her head darted in between the two of them, breaking their arms from each other's faces and quickly pulled a little thistle from it stem. Marie was on the little horse in an instant, face now creased with anger as her had shot out and grabbed Maybell's nose band. Harsh, French grumbles streamed swiftly out of the little woman's mouth. She hauled herself to her feet and pulled the white horse harshly towards the farm.

Jamie though that Marie had already been distracted by a more pressing matter than the issue with the face touching. She seemed normal and confident as she walked up the hill, one hand holding up her skirt slightly to keep up with the little horse trotting lazily beside her. But he could not see her face. He could not tell that she was quickly fleeing up and over the hill so he would not see her blush that was blossoming on her cheeks.

***00***

**To thee I present that shortest and crappiest chapter yet. YAY!**

**It is Halloween soon, and it's time for me to Steampunk up.**

**Been writing this while watching 'Ancient Behaving Badly'. Don't know why I have presented you with this information, but here, you can have it anyway. Also just watched the 'Terror at the Mall' documentary on youtube for the bjillionth time.**

**I shall ask everyone for the hundredth time: How is your day?**

**(Update: Terror at the Mall is no longer on youtube.)**


	11. Nothing to be done

**Chapter 11- Nothing to be done**

It was a year to the day. It was a year to the day since he had come to the farm.

So far, it had been a bright and sunny day, but grey clouds were lowly creeping their way forward. This was good, for there had been little rain this year, even in winter. Jamie watched the clouds slowly drifting across the blue canvas of a sky. He was sitting on the high branches of the courtyard tree, mindlessly staring at the things around him. He was thinking. Grandpére had lessened the work load for him this day; thankfully, for he doubted he would have been able to concentrate his chores.

Precious little Emilie had noticed his sad mood, but clearly did not understand it. She had flittered around him for the better part of the morning, cracking jokes in her still faulty English and trying to cheer him up. He was thankful for her lovely childishness, but it did not really work to lighten his mood. In the end, the little girl had been defeated and simply told him that sitting in the tree always made her feel better when she felt sad before leaving him be.

The tree, although initially hard to scale, had lightened his mood somewhat. He could see everything from the tall branches of this magnificent plant. But, no matter how hard he tried, the only thing he could think about was the Cavalry charge one year ago.

It was, believe it or not, Marie who snapped him out of it.

"Jamie!" She called up to him the ground, her voice easily grabbing his attention. He looked down to her.

She was in her pale pink shirt and red-brown skirt. Little, wispy bit of her chocolate covered hair fell onto her pale face, and she had a large kitchen pot in her hand. She was smiling softly up at him, the sort of smile that told him that she understood. It was odd, but it managed to tempt a small smile from him somehow. She lifted the pot up as high as she could (which was not very high, for the pot was heavy).

"Come down, s'il vous plait." _Come down, please_. She was being rather polite, as he found she usually was now days. So he carefully climbed down the big tree. He jumped down, landing on the ground next to her.

She toothlessly, kindly smiled up at him (he was taller than her, after all) for a long (almost too long, in a way) moment before turning to the fields and walking out towards the small hill. He followed her, guessing that was what she wanted of him. They walked their way through the fields of re-growing produce and over the little hill, arriving at the pond. Marie, on the way there, had plucked two thick sticks from the ground, and now set the pot on the pond's shore.

She handed him one of the sticks before crouching down and, believe it or not, began to dig in the mud beneath them.

Jamie just stood there, staring down at the woman. He was quite shocked, for playing in the mud did not seem something that Marie would be into. He continued to look at her in confusion as she dug through the mud, and she continued until she hit something in the dirt. She pulled it out, a small object caked in mud, and washed it in the clean water of the pond. Doing this revealed a brown, lumpy root of some sort, which was dropped into the pot with a dull _plonk_.

She looked up to him before nodding her head a t the ground. Now Jamie understood. He bent down and began working besides Marie to slowly fill the pot with the roots. It took a small while for him to ask the question he wanted to know.

"Marie." He asked quietly for her attention, which she politely gave him. "What are we doing?"

She stopped digging to hand him her attention to him fully, leaning back on the balls of her feet. She wiped her wet hands (she had just washed her hands in the pond water) on her skirt before answering him. "Preparing dinner."

"What are we making?" Jamie asked. What were these roots even? He had never seen roots such as these, or at least he didn't think he did. He certainly had not eaten them. She gave a single laugh, which shocked him.

"You mean what _I _will be making." Her accented voice, just like her eyes, was laced with humour. Her eyebrows were raised and a small smile graced her lips. "I do not zink you can even toast _pain_!" _I do not even think you can even toast bread_.

It was true, even though he did not want it to be. He had never been taught to cook. He was no woman, after all. He gave a small, short laugh before spoke again. "Very well, Miss Marie. What will _you_ be cooking?"

"Délicieuse soupe." _Delicious soup_. With that, she leaned onto her knees once more before beginning to dig around in the dirt again. They chatted about small things for quite some time.

"Zat should be enough." She said at last. They had been digging through the mud for quite some time, yet the pot was only filled halfway. Marie seemed to be happy with this, though. She grabbed the pot and stood as quickly as she could (which was hard with the heavy pot). She walked back towards the farm, and Jamie scrambled to follow her. This turned out to be easy as she stopped on the hill.

She had turned to look out over the lake, staring into the dense trees of the woods. Jamie came to stand beside her, looking at her in confusion before also looking at the trees. He didn't know what she was looking at now. He searched the trees, looking at the green leaves and rough trunks.

Marie sighed softly and sat down primly on her knees, pot set aside. Jamie looked down at her, sitting like the women of London, except on the ground. He joined her on the dirt (much less gracefully than his female associate) and looked to the trees once more. His eyes darted over everything, taking in the landscape. What was he looking for? He glanced over to Marie. Although she was sitting, as she always did, correctly and straight, she looked relaxed and calmed. Jamie looked at the woods again, this time taking a breath and trying to look at them differently.

This time he saw the flowers. The thistles. The little, colourful birds. A little brown hare hopped out for a moment, before bouncing back into the safety of the thick trees. It seemed slightly unlike Marie to just sit and look at the scenery. She was usually the sort of person to power on and gets things done. Yet she had slowly started to peel away, revealing the things she liked to do.

It was Jamie who lay back first. It was performed with a graceless flop backwards, causing Marie to look at him with eyebrows raised in shock. Jamie gave her a bit if a sheepish grin, for he was sorry that he had interrupted her forest watching. She looked down at him a moment longer before lying beside him. She did this by awkwardly pulling her legs from underneath her and proceeding to lay back in a stiff manner. Once she was flat, she hesitantly folded her hands on her waist, before moving them around to get comfortable. It took a small while, but she seemed to settle.

They both lay there on the grass, now looking up at the pale blue sky rather that the woods across the pond. The grey clouds were beginning to close in on them changing shapes and wanning out into small, fluffy puffs before reforming. The long grasses and thistles swayed around them, tickling their skin. There was little _swoosh plop _sounds of the water lapping at the mud, the water rippling slightly as the wind blew.

One of Marie's slender hands rested on her abdomen, while her other arm was strewn across the grass, bent and with her hand slightly above her head. Jamie was in much the same position beside her (he looked comfortable, so she had decided to copy him).They were quite relaxed, laying there on the soft grass, breathing the scents of the water and earth. They both felt calmer than they had in quite some time. They didn't speak. Not a word was said. They just lay there, staring upwards.

Marie's slow breathing stilled when she felt Jamie's hand lightly brush against her fingers, allowing her to fee the slightly rough skin of his hand. Jamie himself felt her stiffen. He didn't continue to move his hand over, but he did not move it away either.

Marie felt conflicted about this new, sudden development. Jamie had held her hand once or twice before, but that had been to comfort or help her. She did not need either of these at the moment. This was different. This seemed to be because he wanted to. She wanted to hold his hand too she realised.

This was, in a way, rather pathetic when she thought about it. It was the first time someone outside her family had held their hand simply because they wanted to. She was almost twenty-six now, old when it came to marriage standards, yet she had never received so much as a hug in a romantic manner. All of this, when her younger sister had received a few pecks on her cheek during her handful of years. Perhaps it was because Marie was a bit… _touchy _around affections. They made her feel small.

She had never felt this weak. This vulnerable. Young men in town had tried to grab her attention, calling out complements to her or whistling. But she had always ignored them, sometimes even pulling a face or throwing an offence at them. However, that had been before the war. She was older now (even if just a tad), perhaps she had changed. But she hadn't changed in other ways. If anything, she was more grumpy and offensive than she had been before this whole war mess had begun.

She felt Jamie's little finger entwine with her own. Her breath stayed jammed in her throat, which caused her to sound like she was dying when she managed to grab a gulp of air. He entangled his ring finger with hers, and then the next finger. Then the next. Then they were holding hands. She slowly let out her breath. She was almost afraid to look to the left and see the first person who had held her hand in an even slightly romantic manner.

But she did look. She turned her head slowly, slight fear still clinging to her heart (She hated fear. It was the worst of all emotions). When she did finally shift her head enough to see the man beside her, she was greeted by the swirling cool colours of his eyes. Her breath hitched in her throat again. They stared at each other, gaze unwavering.

Perhaps it was human nature. The gravity and pressure of the moment. But it happened.

They slowly moved towards each other. Marie could now suddenly breathe, and she was almost gasping. She tried to keep it quiet. She succeeded mostly, but every few breaths were just a little too loud. Jamie seemed to ignore it and continued to lean in. And they kissed

It wasn't deep or passionate, no tongues or teeth involved. But it did drag out, not in the bad way mind you. It was nice. She was enjoying it. He was enjoying it. They both were enjoying it.

But all good things come to an end.

It was just a soft, distant rumble to begin with. They didn't notice it at first, but then it got louder. They broke apart, listening closely. The rumble grew louder and louder. Trucks. They lay there, silent, waiting. Then another sound.

A scream.

Marie sat up-right so fast it caused her to get a head rush. Jamie went to sit up too, but Marie pushed him back down as gently as she could. She spoke through her teeth in attempt to keep her voice at a whisper. "Stay here."

She crouched and slowly walked up the hill, looking over the peak to her farm. There were soldiers. Soldiers everywhere, crowding around the buildings and fields. A small group of men were pulling Emilie off of Joey's back, while Grandpére waddled out of the house and up the hill as fast as he could. Marie felt protective, wanting to dash forward and care for her sister, but she remembered that the man by the pond needed more help. He was in danger.

She slid down the small hill back towards the pond. Jamie wore concern and fear on his face that just about broke her heart (which said a lot).

Jamie had quite an idea as to what was going on. He could tell by the look on Marie's face. Rather than walking or running down the hill, she slid on the slick grass down the hill towards him. This must have been something big, for Marie avoided getting her clothes dirty (that was more than what could be said for little Emilie).

She stood halfway through her descent and ran to him. Her eyes were wild and wide and her hair flapped around her face. She skidded to a halt just before him and began to shove him harshly towards the woods he had run to on Emilie's birthday, causing him to stumble.

Jamie knew what was going on, but he needed confirmation. He turned around and grabbed at Marie's wrist to still her. She stopped for a moment, letting him look at her properly. Her eyes were filled with fear, fear he had seen only a few times before. He knew they were back when one word left her mouth. "Run."

And he did. He gave her hand a quick squeeze before turning and running. Sadly, he didn't get very far.

*00*

Marie also ran, but in the opposite direction. The pot of roots were forgotten on the ground as she raced over the hill. She bolted down the side of the hill just as Emilie was fully pulled from Joey's back.

When Marie finally reached her family, Grandpére was holding a sobbing Emilie close to his chest. Joey was being marched off while his head swung around wildly. Marie stood by her relatives, hand resting on Emilie's back to comfort her.

But the little girl broke free, running to the big bay she had for a long time thought of as her own horse. Grandpére grabbed Marie's hand when she tried to run after her little sister and could do nothing other than listen to Grandpére's pleas that little Emilie not be hurt.

The fat man that had visited the farm the two previous raids (that was most certainly the best way to describe their visits) lowly walked to them, taking a long drag from his cigar as he watched the small girl get shoved into her Grandfather's arms. Marie quickly grabbed hold of her sister's arm, making sure she did not do something that dangerous again.

"You don't need them." Emilie was pleading with the large solider, but Marie knew it was useless. Topthorn and, most painfully, Maybell were led out of the barn to Marie's horror, but she felt a certain sort of pride when her little white horse put up a fight. Emilie continued to plea fruitlessly with the man. "There is so many others!"

"Please." It was Grandfather talking now, hoping to save his tender little granddaughter from the pain of losing her loved companions. "Take the bigger one and leave the smaller ones. You're breaking my granddaughter's heart."

Marie felt a certain amount of defence then. Taking the large black horse might be a way to keep Maybell and Joey, but Topthorn was Jamie's horse, the horse that the soldier loved so much. Luckily, in an angry and bitter sort of way, she did not have to fret about that for all too long.

"The war is taking everything." The fat man responded, looking at the sobbing little girl in the old man's arms. He walked a few steps closer, and Maire had the urge to push him away from her family. Since the death of her parents and brother, she had in a way become the family's protector. "From everyone."

With that the soldier started to walk away, but Grandfather was not letting him go that easily. He called out after the overweight man. "What will happen to them?"

"They will pull artillery until they die, or until the war is over." He didn't look back, not even when Emilie began to make coughing sounds as she struggled again against her Grandfather's hold. Marie loved her sister, and the little girl was usually rather intelligent. But at the current time, she was being slightly foolish. Could she not see nothing could be done?

"It will never be over!" Grandfather wanted to have the final say. Although he only spoke that handful of words, their meaning was clear: As long as there are people like you, there will always be war.

"You have your answer then." The fat man called back, still not turning to look at them. Marie agreed with her Grandfather fully then. With men like him, the war would never end.

Emilie was carefully spun around and crushing into Grandfather's chest. She continued to cry.

Marie, although her eyes remained dry, was grieving in her own way. She wished to reach out and stroke her small horse's pale coat one last time, to lean her forehead against her own and stroke up her dainty little ears. But instead, Maybell was being dragged away. She was putting up a fight, but it was fruitless. There was no hope.

Just when Marie thought that the soldiers and her horses were finally almost over the hill (she could not bear to see something be taken away from her) there was a commotion off to the side. Everyone around them, including Marie herself, looked to the ruckus.

Jamie was there with three soldiers hanging off of him. His head was shoved harshly down to stare at the ground as German was shouted at the fat man by one of the soldiers. Jamie's eyes slowly travelled back up, this time landing on Marie.

Marie could see the fear in his eyes. She was afraid too. But she didn't want the soldiers to see the fear. That would be dangerous. So she turned her head to her family, leaving her to see the English man from only the corner of her eye.

He was shoved forward, right in front of the plump German man. The man looked Jamie over, before barking an order to the men that were holding onto Jamie (even from this distance, Marie could tell that they had latched on much too tightly). Then he was shoved down towards an oncoming truck.

Marie was crying now. She hoped the soldiers simply saw it as her grieving for the loss of her horses. They were not asking questions about this English man this time, of which Marie was grateful. The two times they had shown up before, they would not stop interrogating her. Questions were always asked endlessly. But now they seemed in a hurry to leave.

She lost sight of Jamie. He disappeared in a blur of trucks, horses and soldiers. She searched around as franticly but, she hoped, subtly. She wanted to see him again. For she knew she could not do anything to help him. She was not foolish; she knew nothing could be done.

It would be dangerous to reveal herself as his protector, to her and her family. She did not dream of it. So, as the convoy swiftly left, she silently looked for that one man she knew. Emilie was just about bawling now.

Then she saw him. There was a fresh cut dug into his cheek, which had blood steadily oozing out. There were many soldiers in the back of the truck, one of the last in the line, with him, looking at him in a menacing manner.

He caught her eye and stared. She saw the fear there once again. She stared right back at him as the trucks disappeared over the hill. Marie lost herself then, gathering her skirt and running as fast as she could manage up the hill.

She caught a glimpse of him again, much to her momentary joy, in the back of the truck as it was just about to disappear into the trees. It was the briefest of looks, and then he was gone again, permanently this time.

Marie's knees trembled. She could feel they were going to give way. And they did. She fell onto her weak knees and cried. She looked to the sky, at the grey clouds that had quickly but quietly snuck themselves into the sky. She couldn't help the tears, couldn't help the way her mouth twisted in anguish, just as she could not help Jamie.

Nothing could be done.

***00***

**Ta Da!**

**One of you dears (not gonna name names, but you know who you are. Then again, looking at the reviews would just give it away anyway…) finally told me how your day was! YAY! No, it's not just a catchphrase (I don't have a catchphrase. At least, I don't think I do…), and I thought you were all ignoring me!**

**The kiss scene is bad because I am bad at that stuff. Which is silly, on account of the story's genre…**

**Have been re-watching all of the 'Llamas in hats'.**


	12. Oh Dear, My Darlings

**Chapter 12- Oh Dear, My Darlings**

Marie had never felt so alone.

Silence hung around her as she walked the dusty road unaccompanied. She didn't look up, just stared at the ground and moved. She had made an art of it, walking without really watching where she was going. She just automatically weaved around obstacles, not even needing to think about it. She passed the time, from dawn to dusk, thinking. This could sometimes be a problem for her emotional heath, for her mind usually wandered back to the same, distressing subject.

There had been other people on this road, not all that long ago either. Marie's initial plan had been to follow the crowds of people to relative safety, but when she had gotten to town (which had taken a number of days) after leaving her farm, everyone was fleeing from the fighting in different directions, causing chaos. Marie had simply chosen a direction and walked, no longer caring.

Walking, walking, walking. That's all she did now days. The dust had changed to mud, and she stepped lightly as not to sink her feet in too far. It would have been easier if Maybell was here, but that was still a touchy subject in Marie's head. As was Grandfather. And Emilie.

She snapped herself out of that train of thought so she would not start crying. She was sick of crying, yet that was all she seemed to do. She had never cried so much in her life as she had during the duration of this horrid war.

The war had no mercy on anything, weather it were man, woman, child or animal. She had seen dreadful things on this lane to nowhere. Bloodied bodies that littered the road sides, which were hard for her to look at yet, at the same time, impossible to look away from. Children screaming in fear as they clung to their mothers. Grown men groaning and cry in agony as they hobbled along, injured. If things were bad before, it had all gone to hell after Jamie had been taken.

And there she was, think of the handsome soldier once more. And she told herself she had not wanted to cry today. Thoughts of Jamie always killed her, punishing her immediately to misery. It seemed the longer she was apart from him, the more she fell in love him. It was foolish, for all she knew he was dead.

Then the tears began to gather. She paused to take breath, hands moving to her hips and eyes shutting. The pack on her back felt heavy as it always did, pulling her down. It was filed with as much as she could carry, both practical and not so. Her favourite clothes had been bundled up and shoved in, along with all of the money she could find, a water container and a good amount of food (which had all been eaten by now). But she had bought along her favourite wooden spoon. And her father's shaving kit. Not to mention her mother's jewelled hair pins, tied in a bundle with some of Emilie's ribbons and tucked into her brother's cap. Then there were Emilie's birthday comb, and of course Grandfather's precious (but broken) old pocket watch. These last things were silly to bring, but she would not leave them behind.

Marie turned her face to the sky before opening her eyes. Grey. The sky and clouds were always that soul-destroying colour now days. It always drained her down to nothing. It was pathetic, how weather could sadden her so.

She heard it then, since the squish sound of her boots hitting the mud had halted. Whispers, swirling around her and rustling her skirt. There were mutters coming from all around her. She looked down and finally looked to the many sources of the noises. The first thing she noticed was the mud. How could she not? It was everywhere, swallowing everything. Nothing could escape its clutches. Then it was the barbed wire, tied around logs formed into 'X's, creating mazes in the mud around her.

Where on earth was she? She began to spin. Where oh where was she? The whispers continued around her. Where were they coming from? Then she saw the heads, seemingly popping out of the ground, all dirty with helmets on them.

She recognized who they were then, with the bowl-like helmet on their heads. She could see a few stray gun barrels poking out from the holes in the ground. She knew who they were now. They were, all of them, soldiers.

She gave a cry and jumped to the left, then to the right, before proceeding to bounce about slightly. She didn't know which way to run. She looked from side to side. The soldiers were on either side of her, poking their heads out of trenches, crowding her in. How did she get here? Had she really not been paying any attention as to where she had been walking?

She needed to think, and quickly at that. Which uniform belonged to which country again? One side wore grey, while the other was a green-brown. She recognised the both of them, but she was all turned around. They looked familiar, but she could not yet place a name on them.

The men were peaking up further, all eyes watching her as she danced around in panic. She was making frantic squeaking sounds now as she bounced about. The murmuring voices of the soldiers were getting louder now, but they were all jumbled. She could not decipher the sounds of one side to the other.

She stopped making panicked sounds for a moment so she could listen, though she continued to bounce about a bit. She could pick up a few words then. A small sentience, but it settle her anxious question: 'It's a woman!'. She saw the words leave the, from far off, of a young man on the green clothed side. English, was the language he spoke. She knew that language. The panic was still there, but she was placing the pieces together now.

She hear the shouts from the grey side properly now as well. It was a strange language that seemed to come from the back of the speaker's throat. It was not the words that came from the men there that identified them to Marie; it was the uniforms, for she remembered now. They grey belonged to Germans.

She didn't care then how much either side could be trusted, she would not go anywhere never those grey pigs. She turned and ran for the English, mud being kicked up by her old boots. The heavy bag on her back made her step less than graceful.

She weaved her way through the barbed wire, where she saw more bodies of men. She did not focus on them this time; for she was too busy fleeing. The English men where lifting themselves out of their trenches further, shouting and using their hands to bacon her forward. Then a shot sounded from behind her and they all ducked back into their muddy holes. Marie continued to run. A few more shots came from the Germans and she flinched and threw her arms up and over her head for a moment. She never stopped running; even her bag fell from one shoulder and slid to the other's elbow.

She reached the edge of the trenches, the men below still shouting, and did not hesitate. She crouched slightly before throwing herself into the muddy trench.

Though she initially landed on her feet, she collapsed forward. Her old, grey bag fell from its last support on her arm and into the dirt beneath. She herself fell forward onto her knees before toppling onto the side of her thighs, covering her skirt in mud. A shock went right through her, sending a bolt up her back. She was stunned for a moment, sitting on the ground as she heard a few gun shots exchanged but quickly die down.

Marie slowly, in a dazed manner, looked up to the faces of the men around her. The soldiers who had fired their rifles where quickly coming down their little ladders , making sure to keep their heads low until they were safe. Everyone around her was staring at her in unrestrained shock. It was the stares that burst fear back into her. She never did like strangers, but men were something else. She scrambled around for a second, shocking the men around her into jumping back. She pushed herself up, and stumbled her way until she was at the dirt wall. She didn't want to go back up there, but she did not want to stay here. There were too many people here, too many men.

She turned again to look at the young soldiers in the trench. They stared at her, mostly in shock and concern, but thankful kept their distance. Marie fell back against the wall, arms spreading wide across the dirt wall and mud coating her skirt, shirt and ponytail. Her breath was coming out harsh and uneven. It took only a moment for shock and confusion to set in, causing her mouth to twist in anguish. Not tears left her eyes, but her body shook and whimpered as she collapsed onto the ground once more.

One of the soldiers, a mere lad by the look of him, reached out to comfort her. He was met with a harsh response, for she screamed and kicked out. The boy jumped back. Marie's eyes where now wide and her mouth was closed and still as her harsh breath returned.

She spotted her bag of treasures on the ground, now all dirty and mucky. She wanted that back at her side. It held her possessions, her most precious belongings, the few items she chose to take in a house full of priceless memories. She looked carefully between her bag and the faces of the men around her. Slowly and as subtly as she could, she reached out with her foot, hooking it onto one of the straps of her old fabric bag and then swiftly dragged it towards her. She took the now filthy bag and held it close to her.

She must have seemed a right mess, crouching on the ground, covered in mud and clutching a bag for her dear life.

Marie came back to her sense them, but was still afraid. Her breath still shook when she pleaded with the men around her in a voice no louder than a whisper. "Please" she took a gasp of breath to calm herself. "Please, help me."

_It took only a few hours for the news to spread around the trenches. They talked and talked about it, enthralled by the strangeness of the situation._

_After all, it was not every day a woman was saved from no-man's land._

*00*

The prison camp was its own certain sort of hell. A hell made of starvation, hard work and beatings.

Jamie himself was, for the most part, ignored and forgotten. He was never questioned nor singled out for any specific sort of punishment. He was mostly over looked, which was a definite plus. But in the back of his mind, it caused doubt. The other prisoners of this camp were picked on by the guards were the ones who were useful, the ones who could give them some information. He was never chosen for any type of interrogation, which Jamie was not being looked for by the English army. They were not after him. He had been forgotten.

It was always wet, cramped and muddy at the camp. Everything was old and dirty, and they had no warm clothes (which made the winter months hard). Everything here was breaking, with exception of the German officers' belongings. Scraps of potato, peas and, if they were lucky, a small chunk of old bread was the only food he had had for close to two years now. He was as thin as a twig, with his clothes in tatters and all sign of the muscle he once had gone. He was in quite the state.

He needed to get out of here if he wanted to live, but Jamie knew there was no hope of such a thing. This prison camp was slowly, painfully killing him. There was no chance that he would survive in this place much longer. It was that thought that was destroying him further. So he tried to remain optimistic, attempting to kept happy thoughts in the forefront of his mind. That was, in its own way, a horrible idea.

It was a bad idea because he always thought of his families, the one he left in England, and the one he felt he had gained here in France. Grandpére, little Emilie and Marie. Especially Marie, he found. In his thoughts, the lovely brunette always dressed in a dusty, pale pink shirt with its deep reddish brown skirt. She always looked the way she had when he had left her.

Being captured by the Germans was, of course, not what he had been hoping for when he had run to the woods. But the soldiers at the farm had run into him as he tried to flee. They had asked him a question in French, which was his bitter undoing. They had quickly discovered that he was not French, but it took them a short moment to figure out that he was English, judging by his accent no doubt as he struggled to put the French words he knew together.

He had been dragged away, but his first fear had not been for himself. Instead, it had been for the little French family that had hidden him for so long. Would they be punished? Would the German's even make the connection?

Those questions still haunted him now. He had not seen anything happen to them, but he had been quickly shoved into the back of a truck that day, so long ago now. He had caught eyes with Marie for just a moment, but then she was gone.

And now he was here, hopelessly biding his time

***00***

**From this point onwards, the book will be the main source of reference.**

**Anyway, a bit of a shorter chapter this evening. I was trying to keep the chapter names one word long, but now I give up.**

**Sorry to any offence caused by the Germans=pigs statement. I didn't mean it!**

**As for the person whom asked, I am have quite a lovely day thus far. Once again, how about you?**

**Anyway, I have nothing left to say so… bye, I s'pose. **


	13. Together Again

**Chapter 13- Together Again**

_1918_

How Jamie managed to escape that retched prisoner's camp was a miracle. A miracle achieved with a great amount of luck, guns, and good timing. The soldiers with the job of watching the prisoners had been pulled away from their posts when the camp had been un-expectantly attacked. They did not bother to see to the prisoners, fearing too much for their own lives, and a shell to the fence had made an easy mode of escape.

But now Jamie was all alone, and no doubt going to die soon. He could not remember the last time he had a proper meal, and not eaten so much a single scrap of bread for days now. He was walking (slowly and hobbling slightly) his way down a long dirt road. There were green fields rolling endlessly on either side of him, with no sign of human life. That was until a day ago, where carcasses of old buildings remained amongst the flood of shell holes in the ground along with some barbed wire (he had received quite the scratch when he lost his balance and toppled onto it, causing his already ruined shirt to rip and get covered in blood). Still no sign of life, however.

But now he stood at the top of a large hill (which had been a painful effort to trek up), looking down below him. It was a stable complex, by the looks of the many horses he could see dotted around. On the side of the farm closest to him, there was the stone wall of what looked to be a wall from an L-shaped stable. There were a handful of other stone buildings there too, some small and others large. On the road side, there was an old fence with a couple of trees near it, and from this distance he could see some people milling around in the courtyard. This was it. He could get help from them. He hobbled faster down the hill, yet it still felt like a snail's pace.

He stumbled through the open gate on the road's fence, but no one noticed him, not even when his old yet still wearable boots tapped the dirty cobble of the courtyard. Jamie, however, noticed everything around him, the first being an older man off to the side, who was watching as younger, uniformed men drag buckets and shovels around. He was a bit of a tubby thing, with a bushy moustache on his top lip. He wore a crisp khaki uniform, and there were three broad stripes on his arms. Jamie recognized the uniform's colour, how could forget?

Jamie coughed a chesty, disgusting cough. He suddenly felt hallow and light, no doubt from the hunger, but he felt as though he was going to pass out. Luckily, the cough had grabbed the attention of the men around him, including the man with the striped uniform. He had their attention, but now he needed them to do something for him. He needed help. With a scratchy, dead voice, he called out to them "H-help."

They rushed to him, crowding around him in an almost suffocating manner. But he was glad at that moment, though, for then he would have a cushion to land on. He was going to collapse, he could feel it. His head felt empty and his legs were beginning to shake slightly.

"Mon Dieu, what iz going on?!" It was that voice that pulled everything back into sharp focus. It rung out above the others, simply due to its feminie pitch and strong accent. He knew it though. Knew it well. The crowd around him parted slowly, revealing the woman who owned the voice.

She was thinner now, and her hair was longer. She wore purple, the same pale shirt and dark skirt from so many years before, it looked. She seemed different, sadder now, but it was no doubt her. It was Marie Gilbert.

He had dreamed of her. Sometimes his dreams contained images of his father or his Mother, but it almost always Marie. She was there, sometimes with her family, feeding him porridge and blabbing on at him. It was this that made him believe for a moment that this had all been a dream. But the days of painful walking assured him that this was all real. And that meant Marie was too.

Marie stopped whatever she was about to say when her eyes landed on him. She stood there, frozen for a moment, and then she screamed. The full buckets of water in her hands fell to the ground and her hands flew up to hover by her mouth (which was currently emitting a strangled sound). Many emotions flashed across her face. Horror, joy, grief, pain.

She, like Jamie, was sure she was in a dream. She had had many dreams where she would see him, fit and shining, standing by her barn. She would run too him, ready to leap into his opened arms. But then she would wake up. Her heart had played a cruel joke, making her love him the more she felt he was dead (though, could she really call it love?).

She moved her hand from her face, then quickly to it again. She repeated this action a few times, until she finally kept it hovering in front of her waist.

"Jamie?" Marie sounded like she was choking. There was too much going on within her and around her to get her voice to work. The soldiers found it unusual to hear the sharp and proper woman in such a state.

"Marie?" Jamie replied in utter disbelief. This whole situation was surreal, and highly improbable. She couldn't be here. _He _shouldn't be here. Yet they were both here. Safe. Sound.

The other soldiers were watching, but neither Jamie nor Marie cared. The hand stayed hovering in front of her midsection. He stayed as he was, waiting for her to react. She had always been rather unpredictable in her reactions, and he half expected her to slap him.

But she smiled, her _true_ smile. Although tears were building up behind her eyes, none were shed. She knew she would most likely do so soon, but for now she smiled. And gave a single, watery laugh. And one more, along with the first, tiny tear.

Jamie was smiling quite wide as well. He took a step towards her, slightly wobbly on his thin and weak legs. But she ran, racing forward and pretty much throwing herself into his arms. They were both laughing watery laughs now, for a variety of reasons. Jamie was amused because Marie had to stand up on her toes to reach him, and Marie found it funny how odd Jamie looked with a shorter beard yet rather scruffy moustache. For a moment there, Jamie felt like he could once again walk without pain, and hold Marie in his arms without faltering. But then his weakness came back with full force, almost causing him to collapse. Marie felt Jamie's legs weaken, and pulled back and supported his weight, rather than throwing her own onto him. It was only then that she noticed the spots of blood on his tattered shirt and the mud covering his skin.

"S'il vous plaît non." She wheezed out in fear, becoming greatly upset for a moment before pulling herself together again. She pushed herself under Jamie's shoulder to support him as she gently led him towards one of the stable blocks. At first, he was reluctant to rest his weight on her, before he remembered he didn't have much of that left. So he leant on her more, but not his full weight.

"Albert, get ze kitchen door!" She gasped out loudly, hoping the boy she was talking to could hear her. One of the taller, yet younger looking men scurried away, running towards a wooden door across the courtyard. The rest of the soldiers trailed behind them, watching their French groom woman in shock. (The shock was due to the fact that she seemed so cold and distant, always trying hard to beat the boys down and away from her. She was even colder than she had been when she was at the farm, but there were reasons for that.)

Jamie was dragged through the door. Inside was a kitchen. All of the furniture was made of dark wood and fairly old looking. There were two doorways at the end of the small kitchen, one with a door and the other leading into what looked to be a large, dim eating hall. There was a counter by the kitchen door with water pump besides a small sink and wooden cabinets hanging from the walls above. Besides that was a very basic stove with a pot on it, cooking something that smelt familiar. Jamie was gently pushed into one of the seats facing the door.

"David, get ze doctor!" Maire yelled, piercing sound cutting right through Jamie, causing him to flinch away a moment before leaning towards Marie again.

"The doctor's 'way!" one, brown haired boy shouted back.

Maire cursed in French, raising her hand to her forehead a moment, before reaching down and squeezing Jamie's hand. Jamie wanted to look at her, but she was gone, running to the door at the back of the kitchen and throwing it open. Jamie was, instead, left with the four boys who entered the kitchen, and the man with the stripes on his uniform (a Sergeant, if he remembered correctly), all of which were watching him. The other men were waiting outside the door, but were quickly ordered away by The Sergeant.

It was an awkward silence, as all the men in the room had their confused eyes on Jamie. After two years of being next-to ignored, the amount of people staring at him was making him rapidly more nervous. Luckily, it was that moment Marie came scurrying backing, darting around Jamie.

Something was thrown on the table, but Jamie was paying more attention to Marie as she ran to the cabinets and threw one doors open. A bowl was retrieved on a frantic hurry, and grabbed the ladle in pot on the stove, scooping some of whatever it was into the bowl. Then the bowl was hurriedly placed in front of Jamie, and he finally saw what was inside. Porridge.

"It iz watery." She said, voice concerned and panicked. "But it iz warm."

She ran back to the sink, grabbing a tin mug and quickly trying to fill it from the pump. The strong rush of water rebounded off the bottom of the cup and spraying all over her. But she didn't stop. She ran back to the table and almost slammed it down on the surface (it was now half empty) next to a small pack of bandages (is that what she got from the storeroom?).

Jamie ate as fast as he could, but his hand was shaking, causing the porridge to fall off the spoon and eat slowly. Marie was still darting around like a frightened rabbit, running with franticness that Jamie had not seen her possess before. She was back in the little room in the corner, this time emerging with a bundle of blankets in her arms. They were thrown over him in a hurry, and Jamie knew she was going to run off again. So he reached up and gently grabbed her hand. Marie paused and looked down at him, face softening as she did so. She carefully pulled out the chair beside him and sat down. She remained holding his hand as he shakily ate, seeing it fi to wait a short while before tending to his wound.

Jamie did not know when she started to cry, but it was just as he finished his food that he felt her shake. He looked to her, and discovered there were tears quietly streaming down her cheeks and her mouth was tightly clamped shut. "Marie?"

Jamie reached up to touch her face, but she removed her hand from his to shake it at him. Her other hand flew up to cover her mouth, no doubt to smother the choking sounds she had started to emit. Her eyes were squeezed tightly shut, yet a few stray tears began to leak out. Jamie reached his frail hand up and stroked her fringe to the side.

She crumpled then, collapsing lightly against him and resting her head on his chest. Her sobs were almost silent, instead for the sucking of breath after every cry. The other men were looking at her in shock, but Jamie just stroked her hair. After a few moments, Marie finally spoke (in the mumbling way one does when crying).

"Tu es en sécurité." She took a large gasp of breath. "You're safe."

***00***

**Took forever for me to try and figure out how to write the 'reunion', until I finally decided to take the 'fuck it' approach and I think it shows.**

**Will not be posting for a while, since this laptop is going to be leaving me and it will be a few weeks before I get my new one. Also, its Christmas.**

**Started playing 'Howrse' again this past week; horrible idea. I'm already addicted, with horses named Joey, Topthorn and Maybell. Splicing my two favourite things together (horses and games) with my other favourite thing (Warhorse) is a bad idea for everyone involved. ****_Everyone. _**

**Anycow, once Christmas has passed, I want a detailed description of how it was. A great obsession of mine, it seems, is feeding off others happiness. On an unrelated note, did Christmas suddenly stop feeling like Christmas two years ago to anyone else?**


	14. Sudden Affection

**Chapter 14- Sudden Affection**

The awkward dance the Jamie had forgotten he had had with Marie's family was now being played out with the English soldiers.

The soldiers did not quite know what to make of him. Only one or two of the men had heard about the charge in which Jamie had, in a way, lost his freedom. To the rest of them, he was just a strange English Cavalry Major whowa had stumbled into their small horse hospital with little meat on his bones and a history with their 'crazy' French groom (he was not impressed when he found that they called her that). They did not know what his history included, nor where he had been to make Marie cry about his safety, and they were going to get the answer out of the two for quite a while.

However, Jamie was still very happy, and for many reasons. One of the minor ones was the great, exciting comfort of hearing the English accents around him again. At first it seemed foreign and strange, but he quickly became used to it again. Another was the food. On this farm, there was lots of food of fairly large variety, especially after lasting over two years in a German prison camp with nothing but stale bread and the occasional rotting vegetable.

But the thing he was most pleased to have again was Marie. A friendly, familiar face after years of harsh treatment and the few hours of strangers. The military men watched in shock as she continued to fuss over him for hours, even days after he showed up.

Jamie dared say (not out loud, of course. He didn't want her to hit him) he felt slightly smug by the way Marie doted him. She did not do it in a way that it was sickly sweet of course, for Marie was much too proud and sensible for that. But Jamie was entitled to the first and largest serving of food, and she would usually drop whatever she was doing to help him. There were also the smiles he received from her, smiles that no one else seemed eligible for. But the first two reasons did not matter, of course (the third one obviously did), he only felt smug when he saw the look on the other men's faces. Even though he felt this way about how she was treating them, he was waiting eagerly for Marie to treat him the way she did before.

That day came moderately quickly. What Jamie could do around the farm was greatly limited, for he was still thin and weak, but he could groom the horses. He only really did this with the horses that Marie cared for. He didn't mean to, but in a way he had sort of become attached to her for the reason that she was the only person here he knew. Marie seemed to feel much the same, for she always went straight to him whenever there was a crowd.

But then again, there was Albert. He was a young man, with baby face and soft, kind voice. Albert was quiet and polite, and seemed to talk to both Jamie and Marie because he wanted to, not because he felt it necessary like everyone else.

They soon found out they had something quite extraordinary in common.

*00*

There had been many people at the imprisonment camp, many soldiers and even civilian's from different countries.

Languages had swum around him there, all foreign and unknown, leaving him in the dark and alone. There must have been more English men there, surely, but if there were, he never met them. Instead, a large percent of the people he was placed amongst were French (some civilian's, he later found, imprisoned for such things as stealing food from soldiers), none of which spoke English like Marie and her family.

So he learnt. He had picked up small pieces from his stay at the farm, but they had mostly spoken to him English. So now he learnt the language as properly as he could. It, to his knowledge, was still faulty and broken, but he had been able to manage small conversations with the French men at the camp, so it could not be all that bad.

It was a bright sunny day, the first one in quite some time, that he realised Marie did not know.

Over the handful of weeks he had been at the vet hospital, he had gained some condition. There was a little weight on his bones now, and even gained a little bit of muscle. He insisted on helping out in some way, but Marie was sure he was still too weak. They had bickered about it for a little while, but it all came to nothing for Marie. Jamie now helped her groom the horses in her care. He had also received another haircut from Marie, along with the opportunity to shave (from which he kept the moustache again. He was shocked to see her father's shaving kit, however).

He was sitting on the little wooden bench outside the kitchen door, waiting for Marie. The stable blocks around him created a three sided box, but that did nothing to block the hot sun that was hitting him. He wished to be under the shady tree over by the fence, were the grass was soft and shade cool.

Even after so long here, the army did not know what to with him, so he was left at the hospital. It was not a bad place to regain health, here surrounded by horses, but he was shocked to discover how Marie was disrespected by most of the other men. The Sergeant (which the other men had called Sargent Thunder) and a man called Major Martin (a vet and doctor) were decent enough, but the young men seemed to altogether ignore her unless she was giving them food or speaking to them directly (though their conversations usually ended in Marie saying something loud in French due to frustration). Jamie learnt from Albert (one of few men who talked to Marie) that most of the soldiers, including himself, were rather afraid of her. This caused Jamie to feel oddly prideful.

As per usual, Marie was the last to leave the kitchen, closing the door behind her (Jamie always left after eating, because he usually found himself overwhelmed by the number of people there). She walked over to Jamie, stopping just in front of him.

"Il est temps de commencer, Monsieur Jamie." _Time to begin, Mister Jamie_. She was smiling, a normal expression for her now days, which Jamie found rather refreshing. She still gave the stink eye, but not so much to him. Marie rocked back on her heels and spun around to face the horse stalls. This caused Jamie to laugh, which made Marie feel even better than she did currently.

"Uh, Bon alors, Mademoiselle Marie." He said casually, before properly realising what he said.

Marie slowly rotated her head around; staring at him with wide eyes laced with confusion. She did not move for a long moment, or even blink. She spoke again in French "Vous parlez Français?"

_You speak French? _She did not know he could, she was only finding out now. He felt bad for not informing her before, but it had never really… _come up_. He replied to her. "Oui."

" Comment…" _How._

"Je l'ai ramassé." _I picked it up. _

For a moment she did not speak, and he feared she may be angry with him. Marie was going to do something, Jamie could tell. Her eyes were much wider than usual, and remained unblinking. He could see the tension on her neck and shoulders, building in preparation. He was waiting for her to move, but what she was going to do was still a mystery.

"Jamie, you _wonderful _man!" her accented voice rang across the yard, grabbing the attention of the soldiers still milling around. Jamie received quite a shock when Marie flung herself at him, standing up on her tip-toes and quickly kissed the corner of his mouth.

Jamie felt his cheeks become slightly warm, but he was more shocked than anything else. Marie had shown great affection to him since his arrival at this veterinary farm, but the light hand-holds and pecks on the cheeks were always done in private. Now Jamie could see all the other men looking between Jamie and Marie in surprise, but Marie did not seem to notice as she babbled out questions, while Jamie answered in halty French, sometimes forgetting words. But Marie seemed not to mind, correcting him with an excited smile still on her face.

She remained bubbly for the rest of the day.

*00*

Jamie himself did not know when it began. Well, actually, that was not quite true.

It had, in a way, begun when he stumbled onto the vet farm, causing hugs and secret (though they were very slowly becoming less so) kisses from Marie. He enjoyed it, that much he knew, but he was confused. No words about the situation were spoken between the two of them, yet it continued to progress, in its own way.

Why was it playing out in this way? It was confusing, it was strange. Jamie was sure that this was not how Gentlemen usually courted females, but then again this did not seem the normal place to do so, in the middle of a great war at a horse hospital. There was also the gap in their country of origin. He did not, once again, know if this was normal for the average civilian.

He was more concerned by the course this whole thing was taking. Marie was more open to him now, but he still had trouble with identifying her feelings. She was still closed up, even with her smiles and short French conversations laced with humour, all directed solely at him.

Because, the thing was, Jamie felt he was quite in love with Marie, but he was not sure if she felt quite the same.

*00*

Marie, Jamie slowly discovered, craved affection.

When he first came to this conclusion, he found himself ridiculous. But the more he thought about it, the more it made sense.

Back at the farm, Marie had asked silently for affection, but not from Jamie. Jamie spent a good chunk of time in his little room in the barn, so he probably missed all of the interment family moments they had. Though, he had seen a glimpse of them.

It was always at breakfast. The little pecks on the cheeks from Grandpére, hugs and giggles from Emilie. Throughout the day, Marie had kept the affection as low as she could around Jamie (kisses were still placed on each other's cheeks). Public intimacy made her uncomfortable.

Except now she did not seem to care, perhaps she had gone so long without any form of affection. Perhaps her want for affection had numbed her. She had turned to him for affection now, mostly in private, but there had been a few public hugs had kisses.

She was using him for affection, but Jamie hoped there was more to it than that.

*00*

_Dearest Mother,_

_It is me, Jamie. I am alive, and currently quite safe. I hope this does not shock you, for I promised you before I left that I would be quite alright. In fact, I remember you made me quite aggressively swear that I would be. I also promised you that I would tell you the entire truth, so I will._

_For the past two years, I have been within a German prison camp, as I am sure you are aware (as long as the newspaper still publishes the lists, that is). Again, I promised I would share all details with you, so I will tell you now that it was awful. You would not recognize me if you saw me then, so thin and scruffy. But I manage to escape that, and have had some weeks to feed up, and have received a hair-cut from a dear friend. Mother, please do not think that I forgot you in those weeks. I was just distracted by something pressing. The best way of telling this story for you, I must begin at the very start:_

_My men arrived in France, quite close to four years ago now, and almost immediately were put in a position to charge a German Garrison, as I am sure you know about from my final letter to you. As I am also sure you aware of, be from a war office telegraph or the newspaper, that this charge did not go as plan._

_And this is where I tell you the most amazing of things. As I was there that horrid day, ready to dismount and be swept to, no doubt, to a vile German prison camp, I was saved. But you see, Mother, I was saved by a woman._

_You should have seen her. She was a frightening thing to behold, producing a piercing battle-cry, sitting atop her little white horse, so close to a pony it could make you laugh, as though she were a man. Yet, to me, she was a shining ray of hope. But she was a fierce one, and I watched as she led her little horse to trample at least one German man in the process of saving us. And I say 'us', Mother, for she saved five English men altogether. I don't know why she did this, save us, and I have yet to ask her. But I will. I say this, Mother, because I got to know her, and still do._

_She took the men, including myself, to her family's farm. She had a younger sister, dear little Emilie, and a grandfather. They cared for me for over a year, Mother, (I dare not go into detail about how it became just me, but let me just say that the other four men were no longer there) and I believed they would have continued to do so had I not been captured by the Germans._

_They came one cloudy, swiftly greying day, and took me away. They did not simply march in and take me. I had seen them coming over a hill and tried to flee, but they intercepted me. I was taken away, and my first fear was to the French family that sheltered me for so long._

_I realise, reading back on this letter, I have yet to tell you my saviour's name. Her name is Marie, Marie Gilbert. I was surprised when I stumbled into where I am now, a British Horse hospital (that is a story for another letter), to find Marie here, safe and sound like I (however, I know not of what happened to the rest of her small family, and this worries me greatly). We are together again, closer than before._

_As I am sure you have gathered from my admirable way of writing of her that I am quiet taken by this woman. Perhaps it will turn out to be a passing fancy, but for now, Mother, I am quite quietly smitten. You are probably shocked to hear of that, Mother, for it is not my usual way of going about things, but it is the truth none the less, and I promised to tell you the truth._

_If only you could meet her now. She is a beautiful creature, but not like the baby-face women that most men find fancy in. No, she has a rather thin face, but she his beautiful all the same. Oh and Mother, Her eyes!_

_I have once again read over my words, and realised how truly silly I sound. I must seem so much like my sister is ever she fell in love. Is dear Kate well? And to think, the purpose of this letter was to assure you of my safety, and it has turned into a brief overview of my history with Marie. I promise you, Mother, my next letter will contain broader topics._

_As always, I wish you good health. Have you been well these years, Mother? And how is dear Kate, as well?_

_Your loving son,  
Jamie._

*00*

**Remember kiddies, all French is from google translate.**

**I am a woman, and that is why Jamie's letter sounds so girly. Sorry. This is a quick re-write of the chapter I had saved, that my friend is currently trying to save from a corrupt USB. I feel that this whole this will sadly come to nothing for poor Gerald *sigh* (and yes, I name my USBs).**

**Also, I'm back. Let the party of telling me how your day was begin. I'm waiting with hats and streamers.**

**Come at me, Bitches.**

**Anyway, I'm back out of my cool room and into the hot Australian sun to deal with school. How is the weather like in all the other countries? Good lord, I hope people realise I've uploaded. I have been gone for quite some time, haven't I?**

**In other news, I'm going to Gallipoli for the ANZAC day dawn service rolls around, but the story should be finished (I hope) by then, so you will not have to worry about update delays.**

**Also, have any of you figured out my update schedule yet? (Some of you may be in other countries with different time zones, so that would make it harder.)**

**Once again, I have read this to the point of being sick of it, so sorry for any mistakes.**


	15. The Horse

**Chapter 15- The Horse**

_"__Sorry Albert, but would you please say that again?" _

*00*

All the other soldiers were excited, because, apparently, a horse from no-man's land was coming into their care. It seemed a big deal to everyone else, but Jamie did not really care where the horses came from; all he cared about was giving them the right attention to help them. Only Marie seemed to share his opinion, and perhaps 'Sargent Thunder', but everyone else was trying to act like they were in the main courtyard for an actual reason, rather than just milling around waiting for the horse to arrive.

The horse arrived in the back of a wagon mid-morning, drawing all the men from the corners of the yard towards him, and pulling one lad, Tomas, away from his conversation with Jamie (which consisted of talk of one evil little bay gelding the boy was assigned to). The horse was shakily unloaded from the wagon, hobbling with an injured leg. From this distance, standing by the kitchen door, Jamie could see the bad state the poor creature was in. It was covered completely in dried mud and spots of blood, especially around his injured leg. His mane and tail was tangled into large knots, and his ribs were protruding, skin wrapping around them sickly.

Boys in Khaki crowded around the poor creature, searching over every inch of him. Marie was sitting on the bench by the kitchen door, staring at the scene unfolding before her with irritation clear in her eyes.

"Le pauvre cheval est blessé et pourtant les imbéciles ne sera pas le laisser seul." _The poor horse is wounded and yet the fools will not leave him alone._ Jamie gave a short chuckle at this, knowing she truly thought them all to be complete idiots. Well, at least she had said it in French so that the men would not get offended. She had rarely been so polite in the past.

"What in the thunder do you think you're about, you lot?" 'Sargent Thunder' shouted from across the, quickly storming his way over to the group around the horse. Trust the Sargent to bring order to a situation like this, even if it were by shouting loud enough to cause the weak horse to jump. "It's an 'orse. It's an 'orse just like the others."

He began a loud rant to the men about the state of the poor creature's health. Jamie just looked down to Marie and smirked. Marie was not too fond of the Sargent, finding him ridiculous, while Jamie didn't mind the burly man, though at times like these he doubted the man's anger management. His shouting was making the horse jump around.

However, Sargent Thunder turned to Jamie quite suddenly and spoke to him in his too-loud voice. "Major Stuart." He turned to the crowd, looking for a moment before pointing to Albert. "Help this young layabout take care of this 'ere 'orse, if you will."

"I will, Sargent." Jamie stood up straight now, arms folded neatly behind his back. He felt like a proper soldier then, as he had once before, except for the lack of a uniform (though apparently he would be receiving one soon).

The Sergeant then turned his attention back to the crowd of men around the horse, and began to shout once more. "The rest of you blighters can get back to your duties. Move it, Move it, you idle monkeys, move it!"

Jamie could feel his ears ringing as the boys fled, leaving only Albert holding onto the lead rope attached to the horse's halter. Jamie left his place by the kitchen door to walk on the other side of the horse as the slowly made their way across the courtyard to the stalls. Marie joined them, on Jamie's side, as he knew she would (Jamie sometimes wondered if he was too presumptuous in his presuming that she would follow him).

"How the divil did you get yourself stuck out there, you old silly?" Albert spoke calmly to the horse that was hobbling beside them. Jamie's kind smile went un-noticed by the young man, who was the individual Jamie was aiming said smile at. So instead, he tilted his head down and looked to Marie, and found a fond little smile was also on her face as she looked at Albert, who continued to speak to the poor creature. Marie's eyes wondered to Jamie and her smile became slightly larger.

"Il est cher, n'est-ce pas?" _He is a dear, is he not? _She said fondly, Albert oblivious that there was suddenly a conversation focused on him as he continued to talk to the horse.

"On pourrait dire que, je suppose." _You could say that, I suppose._ That was all Jamie could think to say as the horse was tied up outside one of the stalls. Calling someone a 'Dear' was not really his ideal.

Marie looked as though she was about to speak again, she was interrupted by the filthy horse rearing up and shaking its head. Mare jumped back to avoid the horse's weak leg, and then narrowed her eyes at the animal. She was clearly not amused by this horse's antics, yet Albert had an entirely different approach, talking lightly and happily to the horse.

"Hey, careful there, you silly. Nearly had my hat off." The boy said gently, but firmly tugged the horse's lead rope a moment when the creature looked as though it were going to rear up again. "No need for that. You'll be all right. Lot of fuss about nothing. Knew a young horse once just like you, proper jumpy he was till I got to know him and he got to know me."

"You talking to them horses again, Albert?" It was David, Albert's rather talkative friend, who spoke, voice coming from the next door stable. "Gawd's strewth! What makes you think they understand a perishing word you say?"

"Some of them may not, David." Albert said, head held high but looked at the dirty animal rather than at his friend. "But one day, one of them will. He'll come in here and recognise my voice. He's bound to come in here. And then you'll see a horse that understands every word that's said to him."

"You're not talking about your Joey again?" David's head popped out of the stable door. He opened his mouth to speak again, but Jamie stopped him. He had seen the flash of hurt in Albert's eyes, and wished to keep from seeing it again.

"What's this you are talking about, Albert" He asked as casually as he could. He was rewarded with a sudden light coming into Albert's eyes.

"Joey. He was me horse since I was a lad." He spoke quietly then, voice rather wistful as he thought of his horse.

"May I ask what happened to him?" Jamie spoke softly. If he didn't know any better, he would think that the poor creature had died, yet Albert had made it seem as the horse were just around the corner, waiting to trot up and nibble at his hair.

"Me pa sold him to a man in the army." Albert spoke as casually as he could, but Jamie could see the slight sadness that had taken over his features. "To a nice gentleman, too. Captain Nicholls, was 'is name."

Jamie did a sort of double take, now staring at Albert with wide eyes. Had he… had really just...

'Sorry Albert, but would you please say that again?" Jamie felt lightheaded, thoughts reeling from the name that just left the boy's mouth. He had heard Albert the first time, but he had to be sure. Sure that he really spoke those words.

"Me Pa sold him to a Captian Nicholls." The lads words were much quieter this time, slightly concerned. He became even more concerned by the sound that left Major Stuart's mouth, much like an odd gasp.

Jamie looked between Albert and Marie, little ragged gasps of shock and desperation leaving him. He was stunned. It could not be, surly. He looked at Marie, trying to convey what he thought, suspected, hoped was true. He could not get the words out, could not force them past his lips. Marie saw the whole thing, saw the look on his face, and became concerned.

"Ce qui est faux?" _What is wrong? _Nothing was wrong; it was merely confusing, unlikely. Marie began to hurry towards him, passing by the dirty horse to get to him. However, she stopped. She froze up suddenly, head snapping towards the animal, looking it straight in the eye. Jamie watched as her eyebrows furrow when the horse reached his nose out to her, upper lip extending, nuzzling at her neck and ear.

Jamie turned back to Albert, regaining his ability to speak. "May I ask what Joey looked like?" He sounded winded.

"Uh.." Jamie could see the confusion on Albert's face, but the boy lurched into a mildly fond description of his childhood steed. "He's a bright red bay with a black mane and tail. He has a white star on his forehead a four white socks that are all even to the inch. He stands over sixteen hands tall. You couldn't miss 'im"

It was him. There was no denying it now. Albert's Joey was James' Joey, Emilie's Joey. It was the same horse they all cared about, was special to all of them. Including himself, including Marie. Jamie turned to Marie, hoping to see her shocked as well, hoping to see that she understood what was going on.

Instead of seeing her wide-eyed and stunned like him, Jamie saw her with a soaking cloth in her hand, jumping around the filthy horse and washing away the mud and sometimes blood on random parts of the animal's body. She was intrigued, it seemed, by the horse in front of them, her eyebrows furrowing as she scrubbed a little faster by the moment.

Jamie wanted to call for her attention, to call for her to listen to what was being said, but instead he just turned back to Albert. The lad was staring at him in confusion, as was David. Jamie's mouth opened and shut a moment, not knowing which words to form.

Jamie had not told them about his time on the Gilbert's farm. After all, why should he? It had nothing to do with them, so he left them in the dark. Besides, it was not entirely his story to tell. But know he wished they knew, because now he did not know how to explain himself, how to explain the situation.

"Albert, I knew Jam- Captain Nicholls, I knew Joey. T-"He began, but was suddenly cut off.

"Jamie!" It was Marie's shrill cry that stopped Jamie, causing him to snap his head back in her direction. She was staring straight into the horse's eyes, her own wide and unblinking. Her mouth was closed in a tight line, but every few seconds it would open, then close without words leaving her.

Then she carefully reached out, hand slowly caressing the side of the horse's nose. She used her other hand to carefully take hold of the horse's halter nose band and gently pulled the horse's head forward as Marie leaned in slightly. She rested her forehead against the horse's and slowly reached up to stroke up it ears.

Jamie was confused. He looked the horse over, trying to see what had triggered such a reaction. The animal was still filthy, but Marie had washed random parts of him. Four clean fetlocks revealed four even white socks. Mud dripped away from a large clean spot on his side, revealing a (still rather dull and dirty) bright bay coat beneath, while he could just make out a white marking on his forehead by the way Marie was up against him.

That's when Jamie understood.

"Est-il…"_Is it_. Was it? It was highly improbable, but then again, many improbable things had happened recently. This would hardly be the first miraculous return from the expected death in recent times.

"Joey." Marie gasped out, still stroking up the horse's ears.

Joey.

It was improbable, yet it seemed to be true. Marie was gaping at the animal before her, tears in her eyes as she looked at her little sister's horse.

Jamie felt the happiness burst through him. It meant a lot to Marie to see Joey again, but it meant even more to Jamie. He was Emilie's horse, but also James'. However, his joy was quickly smothered with worry. He looked between Albert (who seemed even more confused) and Marie, and suddenly felt as though this was not going to go all that well.

Two people who thought of this horse as theirs, both with a deep relationship. It was when he saw Joey slightly jerked his head towards Albert that Jamie knew.

He walked up behind Marie and took her hand gently from Joey's ear. She looked to him, eyes wide, with a small spot of dirt now on her nose, and he just gave her a small smile. She took the hint, dropping her other hand, but she stared at him in confusion as he guided her back a step. Jamie turned his attention to Albert.

"Red bay, with four socks and a white star, you say?" Albert looked at the two of them, then slowly over to the horse before nodding slightly. Jamie knew then, knew that both Marie and Albert loved this horse. Except Albert… Albert raised this horse… but Marie…

Jamie carefully pulled Marie back another few steps back, to what he felt was a safe distance. She continued to look up him with wide, questioning eyes, but this time Jamie was unable to offer the sympathetic smile he had been able to give a moment before. He looked at her as he spoke to Albert. "Say hello to your horse then, boy."

Jamie did not look to Albert. He continued to stare at Marie as she looked to the boy in shock, not quite understanding, before turning to him with huge, wounded eyes. She looked between the two, watching as Albert started to fuss over the horse.

"_What is going on?_" She asked in French, voice pleading.

"_Joey is his horse, Marie. He raised him._" Jamie replied quietly. He watched as the emotions on her face changed, most of which were unreadable to Jamie. He reached up to lightly grab her upper arm to keep her where she was, to keep her grounded.

"_That's not possible, how-_" She stopped there, staring at the Boy and the horse, nuzzling his cheek and nibbling at his hair.

Marie did not entirely understand what was happening, not really. Her sister's horse was with her, but now she was told her was not really Emilie's, but she chose to believe Jamie then. Joey was pushed up against Albert, lipping at his ears and breathing into his hair. It reminded her of how Joey used to treat Emilie, and how Maybell used to treat her. With affection, the affection that was so special to get from a horse.

She backed off, letting the horse and boy be together. She turned back to Jamie but did not speak to him. She was looking at him so sadly, mourning the loss of her sister's horse to a boy, no matter how kind the lad was.

She let them have their moment, let them hug each other and Albert to breathe the horsey scent, but after what she felt was an ample amount of time, she walk up to him. Jamie briefly thought of stopping her, afraid she would say something inappropriate, but the looking in her eye told him she would not do that. She knew the tenderness of the situation.

She reached up and gently stoked Joey's head. The big bay leaned into her touch, low groan admitting from him. She stroked him silently for moment, before turning to Albert and talking quietly yet strongly. "He took care of my sister. You take care of him, oui?"

"Yes, Miss." He said seriously, looking right her right in the eye. Marie nodded and continued to pat Joey, looking again at the blood on his leg.

"We better fix him, zen." She said, suddenly quite determined. She grabbed a clean cloth from her pocket, dipping it in the bucket of water before beginning to carefully wash Joey. She and Albert started to clean him up together, tenderly dabbing at the flesh around the wound. David was sent to fetch Major Martin to take care of the injury while they washed the mud off his body.

Jamie stood off to the side. He was happy, happy to see James', Emilie's, Albert' horse again. But there was something eating at him. Joey had come back to him. Part of the family had returned. But the whole thing made Jamie question where Grandpére and Emilie were.

He had some idea, but he did not like it.

***00***

**Yay, Joey is back.**

**Once again, how was your day? I received an underwhelming amount of replies last time, but I guess that comes from my lack of updates. Sorry about that.**

**Also, sorry this also took so long. I have no reason, other than the fact that I am a little bitch, so yeah.**


	16. Go out with a Bang

**Chapter 16- Go out with a Bang**

David died not three weeks later.

It was a random death, an unneeded death at that. A stray shell. That was all.

Albert, even with Joey (who had had a small illness, which worried the small group of them, but now he seemed quite alright) by his side now, seemed to sink back in on himself. He no longer whistled and sung, he rarely put in the effort to make conversation with others, and took forever to finish his meal, more content with chasing the food around his plate with his cutlery.

Everyone mourned David, but none more than Albert.

Everyone tried to comfort him, tried to make him smile and speak, but he seemed not to want such attention. Their sympathy angered Albert in a way that Jamie understood, but few others seemed to. The other soldiers began to give him a wide berth, leaving him isolated.

Jamie stayed by him, keeping him company. It was hard to make conversation with him, but he spoke at him.

Even though Jamie tried, it was Marie that was really good for him. She walked with him, helping take of the horses in his care and Joey as well. She sat in front of him quietly in the eating hall and made sure he ate enough. She stood beside him silently when he zoned out, staring at the ground and no doubt thinking of David. She continued conversation like David had not died, and if it felt as though the David needed to be mentioned, she remained silent. It took a while, but then Albert began to slowly… open up.

Marie was the silent sympathy of understanding, and that was just what he needed.

*00*

It was dark in the hay room.

Bales upon bales of hay were stacked high in the air, reaching the rafters. The grassy smell wafted around Marie, calming her and relaxing her tense muscles. The low, late afternoon light streaming through the windows made everything grey and colourless. She found the hay store at this time of day extremely calming.

In the late afternoons, she liked to disappear. She liked to slink away, even from dear Jamie, and have a little bit of time alone, time to sit on the top of the bale stack, time to become colourless and to become nothing.

Except there was someone else in the hay store today. Jamie, bending over a bale and cutting the twine that held it together. She had walked in near-silent, yet he still looked up and smiled at her, but he said nothing. Marie looked into his eyes. His skin was washed out and grey in the light, like everything else in the hay room, everything except his eyes. They remained pale blue and green.

He was handsome, beautiful. He returned is attention to the bale of hay, but Marie kept hers on him, mystified.

She knew she could be cold and harsh, inhuman almost, just as she knew she did not give him enough credit. She stayed with him, sure, but she was extremely surprised he put up with her.

He looked up at her again, eyebrows furrowing this time when he noticed her staring. He straightened himself and turned slightly, walking towards her for a few steps before stopping, giving her the space he learnt she need. He waited for her to say something, do something.

He was not wearing is uniform. He never was now. He had received one a little while back, but there was little use for it here. He had not asked for it, and he suspected it came from a dead man. So, currently, he wore a dirty white shirt, brown trousers and cheap suspenders, just like almost any other man there. He was all grey, instead of his eyes.

She felt energy then, crackling under her skin and fighting for release. It burned at her, the heat of it, and for once the grey of the low light did not calm her. The only colour of the room, the colour in his eyes, had undone all the work the grey had done in settling her. The energy needed an out.

She burst forward with a great amount of speed, but to Jamie it slowed right down.

She burst forward. Her hand came up to rest on his neck, the other grabbing at his shirt at his waist. She pushed up on her tip toes and turned her head slightly to the side. The kiss came quickly afterwards, momentum propelling her forward, knocking the breath out of Jamie from the shock of it.

Marie herself was quite enjoying it. It was warm, pulsing, and the energy was being shared. She was no longer bursting with it, and the kiss became calmer for her, more enjoyable. Jamie's hands moved then, coming to rest on her waist, pulling her gently closer. It was quiet, calm.

They broke away with a gasp, Marie taking a step back to gain the pace she liked to have between herself and other (however, it was noticeably less with Jamie then it was with others). Jamie was staring at her in shock, untainted and uncontrolled. She became nervous then, but hid it, hopefully well. She smiled at him, and turned and left confidently.

She was fleeing because of herself, not because of him. She hoped he realised this, if he realised she was running at all.

*00*

When the war ended, it was a surprisingly quick affair.

They were all eating their breakfast when it happened. It was a late breakfast, much later then Marie usually liked to cook. This was caused by the illness of one of the horses in her care, holding her back from her daily task. The horse was fairly close to alright now, but the boys would not shut up about their hunger, leaving both her and Jamie frustrated with the lot of them.

(Jamie was continually shocked as to how Marie managed to cook meals for up to about thirty men that lived at the Vet farm. Yet she managed to do it every time.)

They were all eating peacefully and talking amongst themselves quietly when Sargent Thunder entered. Jamie and Marie were muttering to each other in French, talking about little things, but mostly horses. However, all the peacefully that swirled around the lot of them was lost when Sargent Thunder lived up to his name and boomed.

"Gentlemen!" He strode into the room, stopping in the centre of the small area of open floor space at the front of the hall, facing the tables He called out again, impossibly louder. "Gentlemen! It falls on me to give you some important news. At Eleven o'clock today, in two minutes time, the war will come to an end."

The Sargent was forced to pause as all the men turned to each other and started to talk hurriedly between them, but both Jamie and Marie stayed silent, staring at each other with wide eyes a moment before turning their attention back to The Sergeant.

"The King and Queen thank you for our service. We have been victorious, even if at a higher price than an of us might of imagined. When the bells ring out, and they will in a moment for the first time in four years, Let us remember our brother's fallen in the field, and thank God for the end of this struggle. And victory."

The last words were said quietly and mournfully as the bells began to chime. All men turned in their seats to look out the window, and remained silent as they dinged on.

When the bells finished chiming, the men continued to eat, much more quietly then before. There was no boisterous conversation now, just hushed whispers. Jamie saw a few boys sneak out of the hall, but he decided not to care. He instead reached across table, their little isolated end of one of the tables, and took Marie's hand, deciding it was a good thing they had not eaten at the little table in the kitchen that day.

Everyone stayed in the eating hall longer then they should of, long after the plates were void of food. There was lots of quiet talking and silent staring into nothing.

But they all heard something then, something loud outside the big doors that opened to the courtyard. Voices, many voices. And music. Music loud enough that it seeped through the wood of the doors. The soldiers in the eating hall looked around at each other, then all jumped up in a rush to see what the noise was.

Both Jamie and Marie stood as well, but Marie pushed him into the kitchen, a way to the courtyard much less crowded. They were shocked by what they saw when they stepped into the yard.

It was an overcast day, damp and rather cold, causing Marie to cower back into her woollen shawl more. But the window to the Sargent's small office was open, and the radio used to listen to the news was now playing loud, French music. And the courtyard was _packed_, filled with people, the centre of the courtyard becoming a dancefloor for the boys who managed to ask the few women there to dance first.

It seemed that patients from the neighbouring hospital had shown up. Men, balancing on crutches and protecting their arms wrapped in slings, were laughing everything. Jamie felt no bitterness towards them, for, although he was crestfallen, he was also extremely happy. It was over. It was all over.

Somehow, he and Marie were separated, pulled apart by the crowd of excited soldiers. Marie was pushed right back to the kitchen door, coming to a stop by the wooden bench, and Jamie amongst a group of men. He lost sight of her for a few minutes, but when he caught sight of her again, he saw something he didn't like.

Boys were asking Marie for a dance.

Marie was smiling quite widely, obviously happy with what was going on around her, but her smile would falter every time a soldier wondered up and asked for a dance. She would politely decline before returning to her crowd watching. But they kept streaming on, almost creating a line to ask her for a dance. The line was reduced when some of the nurses from the nearby hospital arrived, along with some civilian French women that suddenly appeared, smiling and laughing and were quickly swept up for a dance.

That did not stop the men streaming to her, however. There were still not enough women to go around, and Jamie could see Marie becoming slightly more annoyed with each request. He moved forward then, quickly swooping in, as he saw another man staring at her and slowly creeping forward.

"May I have this dance?" Jamie asked, bowing down slightly, presenting her his hand and tucking his other arm behind his back. It was an exaggerated movement, and when she stared at him blankly a moment he was worried he had embarrassed her. But the she smiled, her eyes crinkled, and she giggled

She took his hand, swirling out into the courtyard 'dance floor'. They quickly settled with each other, holding hands, his other on her waist at the curve of her hip, hers solidly on his shoulder.

The music changed then, from the upbeat, bouncy song with a woman singing in excited French to something slow and classical, much better for a calm, loving dance.

Jamie held Marie close to him as they slowly swayed in time with the music. He smiled down at her, adoring the joyful gleam in her eyes, and she grinned back up at him. Suddenly, however the smile dropped from her face and she looked down at their feet.

"It's really over." She said quietly, voice crackling slightly. It was then it struck him how old she looked. Jamie was thirty-two years old now (the realization then shocked him), and Marie was younger then him, but she looked much older. Her face was thin and pale, with dark shadows under her eyes. She looked so pained, so tired,

"It is." He said just as quietly, in a hopefully comforting manner. She breathed out suddenly, closing her eyes and relaxing a moment. She mutter a word, a word he could not quiet hear, but he was sure it started with and 'E'.

She opened her eyes suddenly and opened her mouth, but only a syllable left her mouth before she stopped. She gapped a moment, before looking down at their feet again. Jamie ducked his head foreword slightly so she could talk quietly and he could still hear her. She looked up at him again, face more open this time. She looked up at him, so emotional and fierce, before speaking quietly.

"You know I hold you in high regard, Don't you?" She said, quickly collaborated further. "The highest."

Jamie was shocked. He leaned back slightly to look down at her face, but she ducked down again. Perhaps she thought he was appalled by her words, but she made quick work of averting her eyes from his. Their swaying had slowed, but not stopped, and no one was looking at them. Marie had expected the people around her to hear, as she spoke the word to him in English so that he understood, and to turn to look at her. But they did not. They were too busy with themselves, and in that moment she felt impossibly selfish. It was this selfish feeling that made her doubt herself, made her wish she had kept quiet and just let this bitter sweet moment be. Until he spoke back.

"I… I know. And believe me, Marie, I feel much the same."

She looked up at him in shock, and he smiled shyly down at her. She smiled back, slightly smaller but with vast feeling nonetheless.

Neither properly said the words to each other, not properly, even if they both strongly felt it. They were both far too proud and cautious. Jamie knew Marie was a proud being, but he had only come to the realization that he was (which was rather arrogant of him, he dared to say). They would not say it, not yet at least.

They were both quite happy to leave the words there, leave the words unsaid. Happiness never lasted, never stayed, they both knew that, but it had made a visit to them.

And they were quite content with that.

***00***

**In the book and movie, the end of the war is largely uncelebrated, which seems understandably realistic. But after watching '****_Anzac Girls', _****an Australian TV show where the end of the war bought a party in the French hospital they were stationed at, I thought that a quiet affair would not do. So here we are.**

**I also made Joey's leg problem just a little sickness, since the movie didn't bother, I won't either.**

**And the reason the last update took so long was because I really hate this chapter, and I was trying so hard to find another way to write a good story for this chapter, but nothing came from it and it took me three months to get over it and post the other chapter, but this made me anxious all over again, so here it is. Don't kill me. I'm so sorry.**


	17. To England

**Chapter 17- To England**

It did not happen immediately, much to the disappointment of most. In fact, it was rumoured to take quite some time, for some battalions it was not expected for them to leave before the year was out. But for a handful, it was quickly approaching.

They were going home.

The vet farm, however, was not included in that small percentage. After all, how could they be? There were still stalls and stalls of horses to tend to, so much to do before they left. What would become of the horses themselves?

The big beasts were still cared for, of course. It had been a few days since the end of the war was announced, but the world was still turning, there were still horses to be fed. They could not stop caring for the animals simply because their problems had, in a sense ended.

Jamie was alright with waiting. He wanted to get home, of course. He wanted to see his family again, wanted to take trip to the countryside, ride on the green hills there. But for now, he was quite content to stay in France.

It was a cold day that day. Chill bit at everything, burying though the flesh of one's fingers and straight to the bone. James was playing with the bales of hay, moving them this way and that, hoping that the movements would gain him some warmth. It was too cold to needlessly be out there as he was now, but he also felt too restless to be inside. He didn't notice Marie enter until she spoke, causing him to jump.

"What is England like." It did not quite sound like a question. It sounded too…. _Flat_. Jamie took a step back to look properly at her. She wore one of her longer, thicker skirts, dark and dare he say ugly in colour, with a faded black shawl wrapped tightly around her shoulders. Her hair was in a low and messy bun, strands of chocolate hair by her face. Her skin was pale, and her nose and cheeks were slightly rosy from the cold.

There was something wrong. After all there time together, he now found he could just _tell_. However, with no inkling of what the problem was, all he could do was do as she asked. So he told her about England. He told of the cities and country, the people and pets, the day and the night. He had his back turned to her, giving her the befit of hiding, but after she did not make a sound for a very long time, he concluded that he must turn around.

But when he looked to Marie, her eyes were glistening with unshed tears, and her lips was trembling slightly. Before Jamie had the chance to ask what was wrong, she snapped.

"Take me to England." She cried out harshly, clenching her fists and leaning forward. "Take me away from here, _se il vous plait_. I hate it here,_ je déteste ça_. Take me to England, I beg of you!"

Her voice was choked up, and Jamie was quite shocked. He watched as she stumbled over to a pale of hay to sit hurriedly down. He had never seen her so distressed. He had seen her upset before, of course, but this was something else. She was shaking all over slightly, leaning forward as though she had a pain in her gut, and the tears were on the very brink of leaving her eyes. "B- but, France is your home! It is where your family is!"

Except they weren't. He had known he was not going to see them, perhaps ever again, when he did not see little Emilie hiding behind her sister's skirt when he first stumbled into the horse hospital. He had not seen Grandpére fussing over the two of them, the family huddled together and enjoying their own company rather than getting to know the soldiers. They weren't there. From the beginning, he knew that could only mean one thing, but like Marie, he had eluded the subject.

But now the whole thing had come to a head, it seemed. Marie still rarely cried, so to see her almost in tears was as terrifying as it was confusing.

"They are _dead!_" She screamed. She didn't realise what she had said until the words had left her mouth, and they caused her to freeze. She seem less sad and more scared now, but of what Jamie did not know.

They both stayed silent for a few moments. Jamie let her settle, hoping that she would calm and open up, but Marie sunk in on herself, hunching forwards and face paling. Jamie had suspected, such a dreadful thing, such a tragedy as their death, but now he had to know _how_. He spoke to her in a low, calming voice. "How… what happed?"

She did not answer at first. Instead, she looked down at her lap and sniffed. He waited, but she still did not speak, sinking back into herself further by the second. His desire to _know _became less prominent then, instead he was filled with concerned for her.

"You do not… Not have to answer." Jamie said quietly. He took a forward, intending to comfort her, but she only cowered back further. He stopped dead, not entirely sure as what to do now.

He wanted to comfort her. It was his fault, he brought it up, he had caused the damn to crack, but he was at a loss as to what to say or do. Sometimes it seemed as though she wanted to be hugged and whispered to, but in times like these, she struck out, not physically but verbally.

"Non, non." She said quietly, sniffing and whimpering afterwards. She was trying very hard, so very hard, to keep the tears from spilling down her cheeks, and so far it was working quite well. However, he could see she was starting to break. "You dezerve to know."

She did not speak for some time, just sat there hopelessly opening and closing her mouth for quite some time. After a moment, she laughed. A sadistic and humourless laugh, but it shocked Jamie none the less.

"We lost our family to ze war." She did not sound sad, but rather… lost. The tears no longer were in her eyes, instead there was a blank stare directed at her lap. "My brozher joined ze army under-aged, at just seventeen. He waz… waz killed razher quickly." The tears came back with full force, causing her voice to thicken and accent strengthen.

"My parentz were in town when a stray shell hit, and zhat waz ze end of zhat." She sniffed again, a tear finally leaking out. "We lost our family, but zhen, it seemed, we gained a new family. A family of horzes and a man. You."

She chocked up again, but continued. "But then zhat family waz taken too, and Emilie just… gave up. She got sick and just… did not have zhe will to go on. She died a week before _Noel_."

She swallowed again. And again. The last words came out in a rush, a hurried effort to make the story end and her to be at peace because of it. "Grandpére went zhe same way az our parentz."

She finally sobbed then, eyes screwing shut and mouth twisting in anguish. She hunched forward, hugging herself and shaking. Just before she had shown Jamie her boundaries of the situation when she had cowered from his contact, but when he saw her cry in such a way, he no longer cared. He crossed the hay store in only a handful of large yet quiet steps, and bundled her up in his arms.

He was fully expecting to be shoved away, perhaps even shouted at, but instead she leaned into his embrace. She pushed herself against, crying quite hard now, seeking comfort in a way she rarely had before. Jamie already felt the tears soak his shirt, the coldness biting his damp skin.

He let her cry out. He himself felt tears pushing at his own eyes, mourning the people he very much thought of as a second family. He had suspected something as dreadful as this had happened to Emilie and Grandpére, but truth was so much worse than suspicion.

Marie calmed down, but Jamie kept her in his arms. Her breathing evened out and the tears came down to the occasional droplet sliding down her face. They did not talk for some time, just bathed in each other's warm presence. Marie sniffed and gently pushed her cheek against his chest.

"You want to go to England." He said quietly, gently rubbing her back. She sniffed and whimpered for a moment, but then pushed gently into him again.

"Oui." She said quietly, not bothering to translate to English. Her voice was soft but still thick. Except now she sounded tired. She sounded drained. She sounded as though she had had enough.

"I'll see what I can do." He spoke just quietly.

And that was that.

*00*

_"__Fear god, honor the king!"_

_That night, he dreamt the same dream. Except, by the end, he was in the middle of an endless white plain, the only rider left. In front of him, however, just a few meters away, was Marie._

_She was holding Maybell's reins loosely in one hand, the pony angled half beside and half behind her. Marie's other arm was extended loosely to the side, with Emilie holding lightly onto her fingertips. Grandpére grasped tightly onto the little girl's other hand._

_They looked at him blankly, so empty. _

_He felt himself be pulled away, grabbed at with invisible hands and dragged back. He reached out to them, hoping for them to reach out and help him like they did before. But Grandpére, Emilie, Maybell, they were all gone. And Marie looked so lost, among the white._

_She reached for him as well, fingers extending and face twisting with sudden emotions, and that's when Jamie realized it was his turn to help her._

*00*

"What z-do you mean 'Only Officer'z horsez'?!" Marie half wailed at poor Albert. Perhaps not the best thing to do to the lad, on account that he looked to be halfway to tears already.

Joey had to be left behind. Albert's Joey, Emilie's Joey, James' Joey, staying behind in France, to be auctioned off to the highest bidder who did not know what he meant to so many people.

Not just Joey either, all the horses. All the loyal horses, who had fought against their flight nature to charge, were being left behind to be picked by farmers and butchers. They would not be treated as heroes, like many thought they should.

Marie was quite obviously furious. Anger bubbled around her, tainting the air she breathed, and she had her head tipped down in a way that everything she looked at received a dark glare. She had screamed the words she heard back at poor Albert, but that moment of hopelessness turn swiftly to fury.

Jamie could not blame her, really. The principal of the entire situation was… well, he had no words. It was unfair, so much so that it hurt him, stunned him, left him silent and numb. Jamie did not blame her for screaming. In fact, at the moment, he would very much like to join her.

Of course, that had to be the exact moment Sergeant Thunder (whose name turned out to be Sergeant Jacobs) to enter the courtyard.

Jamie barely managed to grab a hold of Marie's as she started for him, no doubt to should abuse. He gently pushed her back as he stared towards the man himself. He strode up to the man confidently but calmly, saluting respectfully when he reached him. Although the man was technically beneath him, after such a strange mix of on and off duty that Jamie was between, and what he was about to do, he felt it necessary.

"Sergeant Jacobs, is it alright if I discuss the matter of the horses." He watched as the Sergeant deflated slightly at the question, and Jamie realised then that Jacobs was about as pleased with the order as the rest of the Soldiers were.

"Yes, Major?"

The original plan for this conversation was to try and find a way around, a loophole, but now, Jamie did not have the heart to. Looking at Sergeant Jacobs, he knew that the man had been asked many times if just _one _horse could get aboard just _one _of the ships. Jamie didn't have the heart to do that to him. So he decided to take a different approach.

"Joey was my horse."

Sergeant Thunder rose his eyebrows at this. Jamie himself was quite shocked that he had _actually _said. He was thinking of saying it, but now it was actually out there.

In a broad, loose sense, it was not entirely untrue. Joey was property on the English Army, and for the longest time, Jamie was the only English Army Officer in his company. So, if one were to stretch the meaning of that sentence, stretch the truth as well, it was not entirely untrue. Joey was property of the English Army, and for the longest time, Jamie was the only English Army Officer in his company. So, if one were to stretch the meaning of that sentence, it was not entirely untrue.

"I thought that that 'orse belonged to a Captain Nicholls, Sir."

Sergeant Thunder knew the whole damn story. Sure, everyone on this farm knew the story of that horse. Taken from a boy in England, shipped to France, lost in the chaos of war (no one knew of his time on the farm, or that there was even a farm at all, He and Marie were very sure of that), only to find the same boy who cared for him. But Sargent Jacobs knew more than most. He knew that James was Joey's original army officer. But, Jamie realised, he probably knew only what Albert knew, which in the grand scheme of things, was not very much. It was time to get creative.

"He was originally Captain Nicholls Horse, yes. But when he was killed in a charge, and my horse was shot out from underneath me, he became my mount." Jamie thought fondly of Topthorn then, he big lovable black horse. The memories were coated thickly in sadness, and he pushed them away so that he could continue. "He remained my horse until I was captured."

It was not enough. Even if he was an officer, being the second-hand owner and apart for two years would not be enough to bring Joey back to England. More than that, but it was a clear lie. He could see that Jacobs knew. The realization dawned in the moustached man's eyes, and Jamie knew he was caught out. But the Sergeant's face softened, which was quite shocking, and he spoke a tad quieter.

"I'll take this to Major Martin." He nodded before turning and walking away.

He, Jamie suddenly realised, hated the order as much as the other soldiers did.

Jamie watched Jacobs walk away for a few moments, before turning and walking back to the small group that had gathered around Marie and Albert. He saw Marie's angry mouth and Albert's sad eyes, and the confusion among the rest of them.

"That, hopefully, should have fixed it." He said as calmly as he could, purposefully sounding light and composed as possible among the angry tension to see if he could get Marie to twitch. It wasn't often she let her guard down enough to be played with, and he was not about to let this opportunity pass. "We'll settle details later, for now I have to finish the horses."

He turned and made in the direction of the far stables, walking lightly and casually as not to miss a sound or opportunity. He waited. 1… 2… 3…

"Vhat did you say?" there she was, Right on his heels, demanding what he meant. He knew that she was itching for answers, especially over a subject that she was angry about. "Jamie? Jamie!"

He struggled not to smile as she raced around him, jumping from one side to the next as he raced away, trying to get a look at his face. "Jamie."

He'd tell her later. Maybe.


	18. Ever After

**Chapter 18- Ever After**

It was surprisingly warm for the tail-end of winter. Well, not warm exactly. Marie was still bundled up in a woollen shawl, and the boys were not complaining about the heat of their uniforms. It was still cold, but no one was shuffling in attempts to find more warmth. They were comfortable.

The horses were groomed to shining, shuffling in their stalls with anticipation, as something was clearly going on. People were starting to steadily file into the little farm, eyes lingering on the horses, picking and choosing already. Some horses preened under the attention, others hid away.

Joey, however, was shut up in his stall, both doors closed so it was dim, but safe. Around him was the family he had developed over his odd and adventurous life family; Albert, Jamie and Marie, stroking him and feeding small pieces of food in their hand (now not even a horse had gone without Marie's famous porridge). They were all safe in here, but outside they could hear the calm, civil sort of danger, the danger in footsteps and murmurs of meat prices.

Marie, after a while, led Jamie out, leaving Albert to reminisce about how he had almost lost his beloved horse a second time. They slipped out, trying and succeeding to hide the shining, fit horse from the crowd of byers, slipping out of the tiny gap they created in the doors.

They walked out, into the crowd, each becoming just another face, just another person. It felt even more crowded when in the thick of it, other's bodies making it hot and uncomfortable. Jamie and Marie huddled close together, her grabbing the sleeve of his uniform jacket as not to be separated. They found their way across the courtyard, near the main fence where the grass was green and it was slightly quieter, but far less crowded.

Then it began.

"To zink, all these horsez, going off to die in a parade of flamboyance." Marie said quietly, watching as the horses were shown off before bidding began, fat butchers ready to take their pick. She paused for a moment, and from where Jamie stood he could suddenly feel a sad knowledge radiating from her. "Like soldiers."

Jamie stayed silent.

The first horse, a flea-bitten grey part thoroughbred, was lost to a butcher in a waistcoat. Jamie felt sad, but from where he stood, he could swear he could feel Marie mourning. He was certain that the grey was not a horse that had been in her charge, and that's when Jamie knew this was going to be difficult for her. But he also knew it would be difficult to pull her away.

He would try and distract her, he decided.

"My mother is excited to meet you." He said as a large, stocky draft horse was led in, dark legs gleaming and curious eyes twitching. Big, meaty, a good horse for farmers. But also butchers, no doubt. He turned to watch Marie's reaction, and found she was already looking at him with raised brows.

"You told your mozher about moi?" She giggled once before smiling and nodding her head to the side in a gesture of 'Fair enough' or 'Alright then'. She looked back to the ring when a sale was called, and the triumphant look on the farmer's face determined the buyer to them. A farmer, not a butcher. A French one, not English as it should be, but small victories.

They watched as the next horse -black, sleek, mark-less- was led in, and Jamie knew he had to make her turn away again. She would be hurt if she saw this again and again.

"My sister, too. They are both excited to meet you, almost as excited as they are about my returning, I feel." He drew her attention back to him, referring to the letters he had received from his family on the matter of her coming to England with him. Of course, he had failed to mention to Marie the parts of the letter that displayed the scandal of bring a woman back when they were unmarried, but he was uncaring of that.

He looked swiftly to the sale ring, hoping Marie would not notice. The sale was still going, and Jamie watched as a slim man in a waistcoat raised his hand. As he looked back to Marie, he noticed something in her hair.

She was not wearing it in her usual plain, slightly messy bun (she had out-grown the pony-tail, it seemed). Her hair was parted subtly, a loose roll of hair on either side of her head before coming to a tuck at the back of her head. Decorating the tuck, however, was a tortoise shell comb he was sure he recognised. It was carved in a sort of viney-floral design, and looked old and slightly scuffed, yet well enough maintained. Then, it hit him.

"That comb." He said, grabbing her attention again, as she had looked back to the ring. He gestured to the back of his own head, and Marie reached up to gently touch the hair piece. "Is it-"

"It iz Emilie's." She said firmly, and didn't look his way. Jamie didn't say anything else on the matter.

The hammer dropped and the shining dark horse was lost to a meat man.

This continued for some time, Marie and Jamie having snippets of conversation as they watched the horses go, largely to their deaths. There was an air of sadness hanging over all the soldiers there. The war was over, yet everything still felt so unfinished.

"I wonder how many are left." Jamie said suddenly. They had not spoken for quite some time, and it caused Marie to look over to him. She shrugged.

"This has to be over soon, surely. It has been going all day" Jamie looked back over to her. Marie, however, was looking into the ring now. She was staring, eyes wide and head stretched upwards. Jamie looked into the ring as well.

There was a little horse, barely breaching 15 hands, in the ring. Jamie recognised it as the little gelding that one lad, Tomas, was always complaining about.

He was nothing special. Sure, he was groomed 'til shining, with a dainty head adorned by a little white star, delicate legs and a small hooves. But he was a bay with black points. Hardly a rare colour, but it was improved with the two crisp white socks on his back feet and thick mane and tail. He was small, with muscly shoulders and rump but with little meat across his barrel, hardly a work horse. His neck was arched and he was prancing nervously, throwing his head or half rearing every few moments, making him hard to lead.

The bidding for him started, but it was slow. It took three bids for it to reach two pounds, while the bidding for the huge horse before had reached ten in that time.

"Who much money do you have?" She asked quietly, accent causing the words to stick. She didn't take her eyes of the creature.

"Nine pounds." Jamie answered. Marie, still without looking held her hand out, silently asking for it. He considered saying no, but then he saw the way she looked at the horse, really saw it.

The horse was clearly nervous. His ears were pressed back as he rocked back on his hind legs again, flailing his front legs slightly. The whites of his eyes were showing and he threw his head about. But Marie stared at him, stared at him with this sort of tenderness that was almost not there until you looked properly. Then she was flooded with it, and she was letting it consume others. The bay horse caught her eye and lowered his head slightly.

The whites of the horse's eyes receded, replaced with the brown that should be there. He turned his head to her slightly and lowered his legs. He stared back at her as he straightened up to his full height, rather than leaning back in preparation to kick. Even though Jamie was not a part of it, he could feel the spell they were in from where he was. Then the horse was tugged forward, and it was broken.

The horse began to throw himself around again as Jamie handed over his money. The bidding had reached three pounds, but had stopped, about to have the horse handed over until Marie screeched out. "Four pounds!"

"Five pounds!" A fat man across the ring bellowed back.

"Six pounds!"

"Seven pounds!"

"Eight pounds!"

The bidding stopped there, and there was nothing. The fat man did not shout back. The numbers where called up, closer to her win. Going once. Going twice.

Sold.

It was less than twenty minutes later that she held the lead in her hand. The horse was still kicking up a fuss, but Marie gave him the longest lead she could and spoke to him in a calm, low voice. Tomas stood to the side of her, hands in his pockets and watching the horse that had caused him so much trouble.

"What iz hiz name?" Marie asked quietly, trying not to take back the work in lowering his head.

"Whinny." Tomas replied quietly. Marie gave a soft chuckle.

"I thought he waz a 'he'." She replied with humour.

"I think it's a good name." His voice was quiet but the horse still threw his head up. "I better go. He dan't like me very much, and I dan't like 'im much either. But… I'm gonna miss 'im."

He reached forward quickly and gave his shoulder a swift pat, but then turned and walked away.

Jamie came up and stood beside Marie, but did not say anything. He had already been rewarded with his remaining pound, so, for the moment, there was nothing much to say. Marie slowly began to wind the lead up, carefully stepping towards Whinny.

She was right in front of the horse, but he did not react. She reached up and gently stroked down his face, then slowly moved to his ears and stroked up them. She leaned forward, very carefully, and rested her forehead against Whinny's.

"I've alwayz liked bays." She said quietly to Jamie. She lifted her head and looked to him. "Do you zink there iz a way to get him to England?"

"Probably, since we purchased him. Might have to pay his way, though." Jamie said, walking up to her. Whinny jerked his head and pricked his ears forward as he did so, but calmed quickly. They were silent again for a moment.

"You told your mozher about me?" Jamie was shocked that Marie had brought up the conversation from earlier in the day, and looked at her. She did not look at him, but he could hear he smile in her voice.

"Of course I have. I cannot just return home with a woman without telling her." He smiled.

She smiled back at him, but was silent for the rest of the afternoon.

*00*

The whole farm moved on some three days later.

Everything was packed up, the three remaining horses, including Joey and Whinny (Jamie and Marie were able to pool enough money to pay his passage), were prepared with their tack and feed. The soldiers packed their things, shinned their shoes and sent final letters to their family with giddy wonderment of whether or not they would get home before their letter.

Jamie was waiting for Marie. It would take three days from then to get to London, to get to the coast and to load the cargo and horses, however the excitement and anticipation in the air almost seemed palatable. The boys were shuffling around, packs on their backs and excitement in their voices.

Then Marie appeared, as dressed up as the boys in their cleaned uniforms.

She was in a black skirt, three quarters of the way down her calf and an abundance of fabric, flaring out at the bottom and loosely folded expertly. She wore a white shirt, long sleeved with wide, tight cuffs at the wrists and slightly puffed everywhere else. The collar was folded down slightly lower, revealing her pale collar bone. In one hand, she held what appeared to be a black jacket, and in the other was a straw hat with a thick black ribbon around the base. Her hair was pinned up, twisted expertly with small, delicate stray strands hanging around her face, softening her face.

She looked lovely, and he was shocked by the image of her. All he could focus was her new boots; capped toe, black and tall, hiding the skin that the skirt would have revealed.

"Those are new shoes." He said dumbly. Marie was fiddling now, tapping her thumb against the brim of her hat.

"I-I traded zhem witz a _Anglais _nurze. Same witz ze hat." She looked between her feet and her hat. She then gestured to what she was wear, and lifting the jacket in her hand slightly. "I made zeese a time ago. Zey are about two yearz out of fashion now."

Her nerves were causing her accent to amplify, but he didn't understand why she was so nervous.

"You look lovely." Jamie said softly and tenderly. Marie smiled almost shyly, and she was about to speak, but there was a shout and all the soldiers fell in a sloppy sort of formation, all the boys now too tired to actually do anything properly. Jamie and Marie fell in at the very back, Whinny's lead rope held loosely in her hand with his head hanging low and carrying a load (along with Marie's things).

They talked quietly among themselves, and although they were all still excited the walking sobered them slightly. However, the day was bright but cool, and they didn't break for hours, anticipation pushing them forward. When the middle of the day approached, and the heat threated to swell, grey clouds rolled in, large but with no promise of rain. The weather was perfect.

Jamie and Marie talked quietly amongst themselves, telling jokes and laughing more freely then they ever had. Whinny would prick his ears and stick his nose between them every once in a while, disturbed by their laughter.

Jamie suddenly sobered, looking down at her tenderly and lovingly in a way he hadn't quite done before. Marie was still giggling from the last thing he said, and she looked happier than he had seen her for a long time. He decided it suddenly

"Marry me, Marie."

She threw her head back and laughed even more, throwing her arms around him a moment later.

***00***

**Hey. It's me again. No time no see, huh?**

**Okay Okay, I'm sorry. I've just been busy with school, and there are other pieces I've been working on, and- you don't care at all, do you? Okay.**

**If anyone can write me a better blurb for this piece, by the way, please…help me… I'll credit you in the epilogue (yes, there will an epilogue, and I ****_will _****post it soon after this. Cross my heart, that pin-eye thing that freaks me out). **

**So yeah, one more chapter.**


	19. Epilogue

**Epilogue **

_1922_

They cantered through the green English countryside, slow and ambling. Jamie sat atop his grey mare, holding her back so she wouldn't race ahead. Marie was perched on Whinny, one leg on either side of the saddle, his rocking-horse canter also held back from racing. Her hair was cut shorter now, ends of her lock halfway down her neck, yet she still refused to wear trousers while riding if she didn't feel like it.

Jamie looked over at Marie, watching as her hair flew in the air before slapping back down as her little horse lopped along. Then she looked over at him, eyes connecting with his for a moment before a huge smile spread over her face.

Then she was gone, speeding forward.

Jamie let his horse gallop too, catching the high laughs from Marie and causing him to grin and hoot too. The horse's hooves pounded loudly against the ground as Jamie caught up with Marie, both of them out of the saddle and simply _going_.

Marie pulled up suddenly, causing Whinny to pivot on his hind legs in order to stop himself from running into the rabbit hole Marie had seen just in time. Jamie managed to turn his mare in time to see Whinny panic and continue to turn on his back legs and squeal so much that Marie was misbalanced and dismounted quickly.

Jamie rushed to her, worried how she would be hurt somehow, but the sound of her laughing and murmuring calming words in French to her little gelding assured him otherwise. At the sight, Jamie could not help but smile.

Some ten minutes later, they were sitting under the shade of a nearby tree, horses lazily dosing next to each other and Marie's head in Jamie's lap. Without really meaning too, he stroked her hair, looking down at her pale face, far less creased with worry and tiredness than when he had met her. Her eyes were closed, her cheeks slightly rounder than where during the war, and over all she just _looked _better.

They had no children, however.

Perhaps they were too old now. Jamie was now thirty-six, Marie not falling far behind. Perhaps there was no use, however there was hope.

Nightmares still plaque him on some nights, and he could still feel the scars from all different causes. Marie still cried on Emilie's birthday and the anniversaries of her family member's deaths, the parents and brother that Jamie never had the chance to meet, and he could tell she still missed little Maybell.

"Marie?" He asked before he managed to stop himself. He wished he could drag those words right back, so he didn't have to ask. He certainly had to ask now, for she hated to be left hanging.

"Mmm?" She groaned lightly and almost happily. She turned her head so she could look up at him, eyes opening only slightly and making her look so sleepy.

"Are you… are you happy?" He asked, the '_here, with me?' _part left unsaid.

He watched as she smiled softly, her hazel eyes filled with warmth. She looked at him with such an open expression of love and affection, much more than those years ago they met. She reached up slowly, and gently stoked his cheek with her delicate, bird-like pale hands, fluttering gently over his skin and soothing him.

"Yes." She said quietly, halting her stroking to instead carefully hold his cheek and rub her thumb carefully. She spoke close to a whisper in her lovely French accent "More than possible."

As was he.

***00***

**So, the last chapter, huh? I feel almost sad.**

**Of course, this wouldn't be a Rue the Day chapter without random announcements in the Author's notes, so here you go:**

**Did I tell you guys I went to a Florence and the Machine concert? The reason I'm telling you this is because I want you to look up Florence + the Machine Live at Voodoo music festival (no, not the one I went to, I'm in Australia, b**chs), because she is a great performer and I want to spread the magic. God, I love her.**

**Also, Merry Christmas my lovelies! I hope you get lots of presents and eat lots of food (a personal favourite past-time of mine).**

**And, of course, the final ceremonial:**

**…****. (wait for it)… How has your day been?  
(****_Yeaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaah!_****)**

**Anyway, in all seriousness, thank you to those who have been with the whole time (you know who you are!). I got a little (okay, a lot) sloppy with the uploading towards the end there, and for that I'm really sorry.**

**I'm not sure what I'll be doing on here next. Outside of this lovely fan-fic world I've been writing some stories for some competitions (which I can paste the address for if there are enough requests). On , though, I think I'm just going to go through this and edit it (maybe not, though. I'm kinda lazy…) (I also have this idea of what it would be like if Marie was English, which I am willing to pop a one-shot out if anyone wants).**

**Anycow (did anyone notice that one?), I have enjoyed my time writing this, and I hope you have enjoyed reading.**

**Later, my dear friends.**


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